Be all my Sins Remember'd
by Gilari
Summary: All it took was one look into his eyes, and Lucy knew her life would never be the same. A story of abuse, suffering, heartache, and unlikely love in the year that never was.
1. Prologue

_Soft you now!_

_The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons_

_Be all my sins remember'd._

_Hamlet, III.1.87-89_

How does one fit all the grief and fear one feels onto a page? Lucy stared at the sheet of paper in front of her, not even sure why she was writing. She needed some sort of outlet, and it wasn't as if she had anyone to talk to here on the Valiant. Not even Harry any more.

Her thoughts flashed back to Jack, chained to a pole, as Harry killed him again and again. He was such a brave man, Jack Harkness. He did not cry out, even as his face contorted in pain and his hands clenched into fists. He would not give Harry the satisfaction.

Harry had laughed as Jack's final moments came yet again, and his head lolled in final defeat. Harry took a step back, and grinned manically, his sleeves rolled up so that the blood would not ruin his clean shirt.

"Ready for another go, are we Captain?" he asked, as Jack slowly came back to life and the deep gashes across his face began to heal.

Jack had not said anything through his broken teeth, slowly growing back, but his eyes were on Lucy.

It was his eyes that haunted her. His endless, soul- searching eyes. They looked into her and saw her withered heart.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she had mouthed behind her husband's back, refusing to let the tears fall. If Jack could be brave, so could she.

Jack had given an almost imperceptible jerking nod of his head. He understood. He understood that if she did anything to stop Harry, Harry would kill her. He had come close before. The bruises lingered, and she wore long sleeves and turtlenecks and heavy make up to hide them.

Harry was evil. She knew that now. How had she ever thought that she could love him? It was his power that she was drawn to; his mystery. Now he was not mysterious. She knew what he was now. As he slashed at Jack yet again, she knew that she had always known, deep down inside. He was pure evil.

So now, staring at the blank page, she realized that not even that was enough to contain her hate. Her hate was an endless ocean that threatened to engulf her, and the paper was no life raft.

Lucy crumpled it up and threw it away. What was she thinking? What if Harry found it? Although, he rarely cared what she did nowadays, and never came to her in the night any more. Thank goodness for small mercies. He revolted her now. What she had once thought handsome and strong she now saw for what it truly was: a monster. The image of Jack returned, and she shuddered.

A moment of clarity passed before her eyes. There was one way to end this. She knew about the Jones' plan to rise up against Harry. Jack hadn't exactly told her, but she had read it in his eyes, tasted it in his kiss, felt it in his sad smile. She could help. Harry did not love her any more, but neither did he suspect her as he did the others.

Resolve pounded in her veins. She would kill Harry. Now that she had made that decision, it felt like the most obvious thing in the whole world. Kill Harry, and end all this. For herself; for Jack; for everyone.

With a slight smile, she made her way over to the wardrobe, and pulled out her red silk dress, holding it against herself in front of the mirror. Oh yes, this would do perfectly.

If Jack could be brave, so could she.

_Author's Note: I know, this is very strange. But give it a chance. The idea came to me randomly while I was talking to my friend, and it just would not go away no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. _

_A warning: this story will be very dark and angsty. The Master abuses Lucy physically and verbally, and her life is not a happy one. _


	2. Chapter 1

ONE YEAR AGO

"I have something to show you, Darling," Harry said, leaning over her.

Lucy looked up.

"What is it, Harry? I thought it was all over. We won."

"So we did, but there's something I think you'll find interesting. Come with me." It was not a request, and Lucy recognized that. She laid her book aside.

"Of course, Harry. What is it?"

He took her hand.

"It's a surprise, Darling," was all he said.

He lead her deeper and deeper into the ship they were living on. Deeper than she had ever dared to explore. The Valiant was such a large airship, filled with twisty, sinister corridors. The whole place gave Lucy the creeps. Even with Harry holding her hand, his grip firm and brooking no argument, she was reluctant to go.

They neared a doorway, and opened out into a large room. Lucy recognized it as one of the engine rooms. She had seen it once before when they toured the Valiant for the first time. As Harry led her in, the smells of an engine room assaulted her. Sweat from the workers, petrol fumes from the engines, and the coppery smell of blood filled her nose. It was the blood that confused her. That is, until she saw _him_.

Often in the weeks and months to follow, she would think back to the first time she saw Jack Harkness. He was tied to a pole in the center of the room, his clothes tattered and ripped, his face dirty but determined. He scowled as they approached.

"Come to show off your prize, Master? I hardly think I'm a sight for you lady friend," he said.

"Charming, as always, Captain," Harry said, smiling. "My love, may I introduce you to Captain Jack Harkness? Captain, this is my wife, Lucy."

"There's a woman who would take you? I didn't expect someone so beautiful to fall for scum," Jack said.

Harry let go of Lucy's hand and slapped Jack hard across the face. The sound of the blow echoed around the cavernous room, and left an angry red handprint on the Captain's handsome face. Lucy recoiled from the angry spark she saw in Harry's eye.

"I can't have you talking to my wife like that, Captain. We must be civil to each other," Harry said.

Jack snorted.

"Yeah right," he muttered.

Harry turned to an aid.

"Is Doctor Brown here?" he asked.

"Just on his way, Sir," the aid said.

"Who is coming?" Lucy asked.

Harry smiled at her.

"A doctor. Not _the_ Doctor, mind. He is on the main deck. I thought he would want a good view of what is about to take place. He did choose a very inconvenient title, though. Not powerful at all. Mine is better, the Master." Lucy was aware that he had stopped talking to her and was talking to himself again. It was a bad habit of his that had become worse of late. He shook himself out of his revelry. "Doctor Brown is coming so we can verify a certain fact that I have discovered about the Captain."

Lucy looked hard at Captain Harkness. Aside from some minor cuts on his face, and the bruise that was forming as a result of Harry's slap, there did not seem to be anything terribly wrong with him. This confused her. If he had been captured, he ought to be more roughed up.

"Ah, the doctor is in the house!" Harry exclaimed.

Doctor Brown was a tall, thin man with a balding head, wire-rimmed glasses, and a nervous disposition.

"You're _finally_ here!" Harry grinned. "We've been waiting for ages. Sergeant, your gun, if you please."

The soldier standing guard handed over his gun, a confused look on his face.

"Harry, what's going on?" Lucy asked, getting worried. What in the world was he up to? Surely he wasn't going to shoot this man…?

"Stand clear everyone. You too, Darling," Harry said to Lucy. Lucy took a step back.

He aimed the gun at Jack, and fired two rounds into his chest.

All the air seemed to have gone out of Lucy's lungs. For one heart-stopping moment she couldn't breath. Harry had shot him! Harry had executed the man as he stood tied to a pole. She was filled with horror at the scene before her. Jack's limp corpse washanging by the bonds that kept him tied to the pole, his eyes open but devoid of life.

"Doctor, please verify that the Captain is in fact dead," Harry said coolly, his eyes on the barrel of the gun as he checked it for scratches.

Doctor Brown approached Jack and gingerly placed a stethoscope onto what was left of his chest.

"No heartbeat," he confirmed. "The patient is most definitely dead."

"Is that your expert opinion?" Harry asked.

"It is," Doctor Brown said. "Now, Prime Minister, do you mind telling me what this is all about?"

"In a moment, doctor, in a moment," Harry said in a hushed voice, as if he was waiting for something.

As the two men had been talking, her eyes had been glued to Jack. In spite of everything, she felt sorry for him. Nobody deserved to die like that. Harry and Doctor Brown had stepped away from him, and suddenly his head had shot up, and he was gasping for air.

Lucy gave a shriek, and Harry and Doctor Brown turned.

Jack winced in pain.

"What did you have to do that for?" he demanded.

Doctor Brown stared at him.

"I… I don't understand," he stuttered. "The patient was absolutely dead. There is no way he could survive two bullets to the chest!"

Harry looked delighted.

"So it's true, Captain?" he said. "What they say about you- it's true."  
"Not sure what you're referring to, Master. A lot of people say a lot of things about me," Jack said, his voice clipped.

"You can't die. This is interesting. This is very interesting," Harry continued, as if he had not been interrupted. "Tell me, will you always come back to life?"

"Bite me," Jack answered.

Harry just laughed.

"You'll tell me sooner or later, Captain. In the mean time, enjoy your stay on the Valiant." Harry said. He smiled at Doctor Brown.

"This is remarkable. Just remarkable! The patient _came back to life_. This defies modern medicine! I must write in to the Journal of Medicine. What an article that will make!" Doctor Brown bubbled.

"I think not, doctor," Harry said calmly. He examined the gun he was holding again, and then fired it at the unsuspecting doctor. Doctor Brown's body fell with a sickening thud, his glasses now askew on his bland face.

"Couldn't have him telling anybody about our very special guest, now could we?" Harry said, grinning at Lucy. She gave him a weak smile back. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him kill people before. It was just that the doctor was so unsuspecting, so sure in his medical triumph.

"Clean up the mess," Harry instructed the sergeant, handing him his gun back. "Come, Darling," to Lucy.

Lucy took his offered hand.

"Harry, I don't understand," she said.

"I didn't expect you to," Harry replied jovially. He was in high spirits, that much was obvious.

"Captain Harkness… he can't die?"

"That's right my sweet little simple human. He is immortal. Who knows what the possibilities are!" he grabbed Lucy by the hands and swung her around, catching her off balance. She stumbled and careened into a wall, hitting her head against it and tripping. She landed painfully with her foot twisted under her.

Harry regarded her with a measure of distaste.

"Clumsy ape," he said dismissively.

Lucy was left to hobble after him.


	3. Chapter 2

"Where were you today, Darling?" Harry asked, pulling off his tie.

"Just catching up on my reading," Lucy answered, brushing out her hair. "I've had so many other things to do lately, what with the invasion and all."

Harry came to stand behind her, and kissed the top of her head.

"Always my little academic. Don't study too hard, you'll ruin your pretty looks," he said. He flopped down on the bed, and held out his hand, a clear indication he wanted Lucy to join him.

She laid her head on his chest, and smiled as he stroked her hair.

"I wanted you to be with me today, Dearest," he said. "You know how I love it when you watch my triumphs. You'll never guess what happened today! Go on, guess."

"Umm…" Lucy couldn't guess. She never could with Harry, but she knew that he would get angry if she didn't try. "You figured out a way to live forever?" she finished lamely.

"No, no. Although, I'm working on that. No, the United States surrendered today. After holding out for almost two weeks; I have to give them credit for that. You remember when they used to think they were big guns? Hah. Now look at them, crawling to me begging for relief. Of course, they don't understand that there is no relief from the Toclefane."

"How many countries are left then?" Lucy asked, trying not to think about the devastation that had once been North America.

"Ten," Harry said, a smile creeping onto his face. "Well, nine. Switzerland wants to be neutral. But what's the fun in that? I said, ok, be neutral. It just means they won't be expecting it when the first wave comes. Which should be," he consulted his watch, "Five minutes ago."

"Of course I'll come watch tomorrow," Lucy murmured. She didn't want to talk about it any more. She was actually getting extraordinarily tired, and having trouble keeping her eyes open.

"That's not all," Harry continued. "I've also learned that our friend the Captain can't be killed by shooting, stabbing, strangling, poisoning, electrocution, lethal injection, hanging… but there are so many possibilities to try out. I think I am going to have fun with this!"

Lucy was fully awake now. She tried not to move a muscle to indicate anything Harry was saying was of any interest to her. Sure enough, he continued cheerfully.

"There's another thing I've found out about him. He heals of all major, life threatening injuries, but not the minor ones. Small cuts? Still stay. I suppose because unless they get infected, they won't kill him. So what I want to know is, if I gave him so many small cuts that he bled out, would they all heal? And what about infection? Would an infection kill him? Can he get sick, if it was only a cold? Or is he only immune from life-threatening illnesses? The possibilities really are endless. So many different combinations of things to try. It's exciting, isn't it, Dearest? Dearest? Are you listening?"

Lucy kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady.

"You humans and your need to for sleep," Harry said dismissively, slipping out from under her.

Lucy lay still, pretending to sleep, but her mind was alive with questions.

--

It was what Harry had said the night before that made Lucy seek out Captain Harkness again. It was the part about the cuts that made her think. It was obvious from Harry's speech that he had been experimenting with ways of killing Jack, and had found that the man could not die by any conventional means. This strange quality of Jack's fascinated Lucy, and she wanted to understand it. So, against her better judgment, she managed to sneak down to the engine room late in the afternoon.

"Oh, so you're back are you?" Jack said, looking up as she approached him. "I knew you couldn't stay away. I have that effect on people."

"I came because I can't make you out, Captain," Lucy replied.

"Please. Call me Jack. All beautiful ladies call me Jack," he said, grinning.

Lucy was astounded. He was _flirting_ with her.

"Do you realize you're chained up? And my husband is the one who did it?" she asked, amazed at him.

"Why should I let that dampen my fun? I've been in worse situations," he replied.

"Worse situations? Than being Harry's plaything to invent new ways of killing?"

Jack shrugged.

"I've been tortured before," he said, his expression veiled. "You're name's Lucy, right?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes," Lucy said.

"I knew a girl named Lucy once. Lovely girl. Lots of blond hair, like you. She was a _great_ shot with a bow. Rode into battle with her brothers all the time. Valiant, that's what she was," he smiled at the memory.

"You are an enigma, Captain… I mean, Jack," Lucy said, taking a step closer to him.

"I've been called that before," he said.

"How is it you can't die?" Lucy asked, asking the question she had come to ask before she lost her nerve.

"Cutting straight to the chase. I like that in a girl," Jack said. Then, his face sobered. "Not sure how much I can tell you, Lucy. The Master's being trying to figure it out too."

The Master. That was Harry's other name. Lucy thought it a ridiculously grandiose title, though she would never say that to him

"There are so many who would _kill_ for the gift you have, Jack," Lucy said.

"Gift? More like a curse," Jack said, bitterly. "You have no idea what it is like to be in so much pain, but never be assured of a release at the end. To die and die and come back again for another go. I would not wish it on anyone." Jack turned his dirt-smudged face away from her, his eyes stormy.

"I… I'm sorry," Lucy said. "I just thought… wouldn't everyone want to live forever?"

"And see all the people you care about leave you? Watch all of them die? No, I don't think so."

"Have you always been like this?" Lucy asked. In spite of herself, she was drawing closer to Jack, so that now she was face to face with him.

"No. I was born human- as human as they come. I had this… done… to me. By…" he paused, as if memories were washing over him. "By someone who meant well, but couldn't control what they were doing."

"That must have been a very long time ago," Lucy said, feeling compassion wash over her.

"A hundred and fifty years ago. Or twenty thousand years from now. That's the thing about time travel. You never can be sure."

A year ago, hearing people calmly talk about time travel would have seemed ridiculous, like something out of a novel. Now, Lucy didn't bat an eyelash. She had traveled in time herself. And oh, the things she had seen.

"Does it hurt?" Lucy asked suddenly.

"Time Travel? Only if you're using a vortex manipulator. That thing will give you a jolt!"

Lucy had no idea what he was talking about.

"Dying I mean. Does it hurt when you die?"

Jack looked straight at her, and his eyes seemed to pierce her.

"Honestly?" he asked.

From anyone else, the question would have seemed patronizing. But Lucy felt that Jack was truly trying to gauge if she wanted him to comfortingly lie to her or not. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded.

"Every time," Jack said, his answer coming out as more of a sigh.

"How many times have you… you know?" Lucy asked in spite of herself.

"Died?" Jack shrugged, his jovial attitude returning. "Too many times to count. Lost track after World War One."

"Do you want to die?"

Jack shook his head.

"I thought I did. Then I thought I didn't. But now? I'm not sure. I've got your husband to thank for that."

Heat flooded Lucy's face. Here she was, demanding this man answer her questions, when he had been tortured by her husband not 24 hours before. She ripped her eyes away from Jack's face, feeling revulsion at herself and her actions. What would her father say if he knew? Or Harry?

Harry. If Harry knew she were here, he would be angry at her. He wouldn't want her to be messing about with his pet project. He would say she was going to ruin it for him, and he hated to have things ruined. Fear ripped into Lucy, and she wanted to be gone from this place. From the smell of smoke and blood and the sight of Jack Harkness the impossible man.

"I… I have to go," she said lamely, before turning and fleeing.

"Come back again sometime," Jack's voice followed her down the hallway.

_Author's Note: In honour of the theatrical release of _Prince Caspian, _I have added a Narnia reference into this chapter. Because I pretty much adore Narnia. _

_I watched _the Sound of Drums _and _the Last if the Time Lords _again, and took notes, so I have all my facts straight now. Poor Lucy is really torn between the Master's brainwashing and her own inner compass that has been suppressed. _

_Many thanks to I am the Lev, for being my alpha (someone who encourages you throughout the writing of the story) as well as my beta. You're fantastic. _

_PS whoever came up with that phrase 'alpha', I am borrowing it cuz I think it's awesome and accurately describes the state of things. _


	4. Chapter 3

Lucy took the long way to her suite. She couldn't bear the thought of staying there until Harry got back, but there was no knowing when he would get back and he expected her to be there when he did. She lingered longest at the open windows. Since they were above the clouds, there was always sunshine streaming in, which Lucy loved. She stood in the puddle of warmth with her eyes closed, drinking it in. The feeling of the sunshine on her skin was lovely.

With a sigh, she snapped back to reality. She had to get to her suite before Harry, or he would be angry. It was only a short way to them now, but Lucy was reluctant to go. Harry had insisted they decorate all in white, and she found the effect stifling.

She pushed open the double doors, and was surprised to find the room already occupied. It was one of the Jones girls. Harry had been so angry, and raged and hurled things at walls when the other one had gotten away. This one was pretty, despite the horrible maid's outfit Harry forced her to wear. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face, and her eyes snapped with energy as she dusted. Her name was… Tish. Yes, that was it. She had been one of Harry's assistants for his campaign, and Lucy had always liked her.

A wave of longing to talk to someone, _anyone_ overcame Lucy. She was so isolated on the Valiant. The workers treated her with respect tinged with fear, but never allowed themselves to have conversations with her. It was as if she were the Queen, but there were no courtiers or ladies in waiting to talk to. And of course, everyone else hated her for who she was married to. She suspected that was the reason she enjoyed talking to Jack so much: he talked freely, and was not afraid of what he said to her. But Harry had been keeping her on a tight leash lately, and her chances to steal down to the engine room and talk to Jack were infrequent these last weeks.

"Hello," she said hesitantly to Tish.

Tish looked up, her dark eyes taking in Lucy all at once.

"I'm working," she said, the thinly veiled sarcasm in her voice standing out "Please don't bother me."

You're doing a good job," Lucy ventured, looking around the room. "I know it must be hard, keeping white clean. I wish there was more colour in here. Sometimes I feel like it washes me out, but Harry says – "

Tish, who until now had been turned the other way, now wheeled around to face Lucy.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded. "You want us to be friends? You want to talk like nothing's wrong? We could have a nice cozy chat while my sister is out there risking her life? I'm here doing bloody _housework_ while your husband ruins the world. So what do you bloody want from me?!"

"I just wanted to say hello," Lucy said, regretting speaking. She rushed to think of something that would placidate the angry woman. "How… how is your sister?"

"How should I know?" Tish snapped. "We don't exactly here anything from her, do we? How could we, when she's in danger all the time and your psycho husband is trying to kill her along with the rest of the world?!"

Lucy shrank back.

"I'm sorry, I just thought…"

"Well you thought wrong, Mrs. Saxon," Tish said, somehow making the title a sneer. She stomped out of the room.

The silence seemed to eat away at Lucy. That wasn't what she had expected at all. She didn't know what she expected. She sank down on one of the plush white chairs and fought tears. She couldn't cry; Harry might come in at any moment, and he would want her looking fresh and pretty.

Time was she had lots of friends chattering and laughing around her. She had always surrounded herself with high-spirited people, who could talk and make her easy. She used to be quite a popular girl – her money and her looks had made sure of that. And now she couldn't even carry on a conversation with a servant. She wasn't supposed to be talking to the Jones girl in any case.

She tried to stifle her tears, but they fell anyways.

--

Jack was sleeping when Lucy came, carrying a plate with food heaped on it in one hand, and the usual antibacterial solution in the other. His head was slumped forward on his chest uncomfortably, and he hung weakly by his shackles. Lucy winced in sympathy. It must not have been very easy to sleep like that, but Jack didn't really have a choice.

Placing her plate on the floor, she took the wet cloth out of the bowl of warm water, and began to wash the dried blood away from his face. He twitched in his sleep, but didn't wake up. When all the blood was gone, she squirted antibacterial solution into the water, and carefully began to clean his cuts.

He stirred.

"Owww!" he groaned, his eyes fluttering open. "I thought you were supposed to be the cure, Lucy, not the instrument of pain."

Lucy smiled.

"Stop being such a baby and hold still," she instructed. She had been to visit him every moment that she could, bringing food and bandages enough to (hopefully) sustain him till her next visit. He was always teasing her, always flirting, and Lucy wouldn't admit that she enjoyed the playful banter.

"Wait till you have deep cuts," Jack grumbled, "And I'll pour lemon juice on them and pretend it's helping."

Lucy stifled a giggle. Now was not the time to encourage him.

"It's antiseptic and you know it. Otherwise your cuts will get infected."

Jack shrugged.

"It's not like I'll die of gangrene or anything," he said.

"No," Lucy agreed. "But it will hurt a lot more."

Jack gave her a mega-watt smile, dazzling her for a moment.

"What would I do if you weren't here to take care of me?" he asked.

"Well you wouldn't die, that's for sure," Lucy shot back good-naturedly.

Jack pouted.

"Not funny," he said. He eyed the food sitting on the floor. "What did you bring me, my angel of mercy?"

"Hardly an angel," Lucy said, putting the bowl down and picking up the plate.

Jack's eyes ran over her. Lucy blushed under his scrutiny.

He smiled, but didn't comment, except to say "What have you brought me today, Angel?"

"Bacon and toast from breakfast. It's all I could find," Lucy said apologetically. She knew if she asked the cooks for more of anything, they would get suspicious. Her only way of sneaking extra food was to not eat her own breakfast. But she wasn't about to tell Jack that.

"Mmmmmm… bacon," Jack replied, grinning. He opened his mouth, and Lucy popped a strip of bacon in for him. As he chewed, she took stock of him. He was a lot thinner than he had been when they first brought him here. She knew they weren't feeding him enough, just to be cruel. He couldn't die of starvation, but that didn't mean they wouldn't push him to the brink.

"Toast please," he requested. Like a mother bird, Lucy held the toast up to his mouth. He took a huge bight, and munched happily. Nothing seemed to dampen his spirits, even being chained like this.

"Dif if goot!" Jack muttered around another bite of toast. He swallowed. "But you know what I really want right now? A big juicy hamburger. You Brits don't know how to make a real juicy patty with tomatoes and lettuce and mustard on a big crusty bun with a huge plate of onion rings, and… what?"

Lucy was fighting to contain her laughter.

"That's so American," she giggled.

Jack pouted.

"What's wrong with that?"

Lucy just laughed.

Jack smiled.

"It's good to hear you laugh, Lucy. You don't laugh enough."

"You make me laugh," she replied. "You're so ridiculous sometimes. What else do you want?"

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Milkshakes. And ice cream. And marshmallows dipped in chocolate. Pizza. Waffles dripping with maple syrup. Eggs fried in butter." He was obviously warming to the subject. "Tortillas. Macaroni and cheese."

He opened his mouth and Lucy offered him another bite of toast. He swallowed it, took an offered drink of water, and continued.

"Chinese take out. Sushi. Hot dogs with relish and hot peppers."

"Is that all?" Lucy asked, smiling.

Jack grimaced.

"When you're stuck here with nothing to do, imagining food becomes a good pastime."

"What's wrong with this?" Lucy asked, feeding him the last of the toast and another couple of strips of bacon.

"Nufing," Jack said, his mouth full again.

Lucy wrinkled her nose at his lack of manners.

"So… Tish told me about your little meeting," Jack said when he had finished chewing the last piece.

"She yelled at me," Lucy said, embarrassed. She hadn't stopped to think how Tish felt about talking to her when she had started the conversation, but she had had plenty of time to think about it since. "I mean, I didn't expect her to be friendly, but I was trying. I just… don't really have anyone to talk to."

"You'll have to excuse her," Jack said. "There are reports coming in all the time that say they're on the verse of finding her sister Martha. Her whole family is on edge about it all the time. Martha's our only hope."

Lucy thought about the dark beauty that she had only seen once.

"Tell me about Martha?" she asked Jack. "What is she like?"

"Beautiful," Jack commented, grinning smugly.

"And…?" Lucy prodded, rolling her eyes at his comment.

She wasn't sure why she cared so much. Harry had been furious when she had escaped, raging and screaming. He had been sparing no expense trying to find her, but as yet there were only rumours of where she was going to be. She was smart; moving from place to place and never staying long. Although Harry insisted that they were close to finding her, Lucy knew that they were no closer than when they started. This girl certainly was interesting, and Lucy wanted to know everything about her that she could.

"I don't know her very well," Jack confessed. "I went to the end of the universe with her, but I hardly know her. How's that for irony?" he paused for a moment. "I know that's she was training to be a doctor, and she's brave and she's seen a lot of things. She may look like a wall flower, but she's the Doctor's companion, which means she's made of sterner stuff than people gives her credit for. If she's anything like his previous companions, then she's fantastic. Brave, loyal, smart, resourceful. She'll stop at nothing to save the world and rescue the Doctor."

"Companion? What do you mean, companion?" Lucy asked. She remembered that Harry had called her his 'faithful companion', and she had been discomfited by it. "Has he traveled with other ones besides Martha?"

"Sure. Lots of them. I was one of them myself. As far as I can make out, Time Lords are solitary. They probably don't like other Time Lords interfering or something. But they also don't like to travel around time and space alone. At least, the Doctor doesn't. He picks up companions to go around with him and share his adventures. You see, the Doctor's not human. Sometimes he forgets human traits like mercy and patience. That's why he needs a human around. To keep him from becoming _too_ like the people he is fighting against. Or, his last one did. She was…" he paused, "_is_ fantastic."

"What happened to her, if she wasn't Martha?" Lucy asked, fascinated in spite of herself.

"She's… gone now." He must have caught the sympathetic look on Lucy's face, because he added hastily. "Not dead, just gone. Trapped, and we can't get her back," Jack chuckled a little bitterly. "The truth was we were both in love with her, me and the Doctor. And now… well, she's better off where she is. Especially with all this going on."

Lucy's heart ached for Jack, losing this girl that he obviously cared so much about. But a small part of her felt hurt, even though she knew she had no right to. It stung to know that Jack had cared for someone else. She turned away, confused. This was _not_ how she was supposed to feel about Jack. She had felt pity for him, of course, and a desire to talk to him and ease his situation. But lately her feelings for him and become more and more muddled. It was getting harder to sort them out.

"I have to go," she said, gathering up the empty dishes hastily.

"Don't forget I said about Tish. Just give her time." Jack said.

Lucy nodded, slipping away.

--

Lucy found Harry in the main room. The 'throne room' as she was already calling it in her mind. He was gazing gloatingly out the window. He turned as she entered.

"My love! I've missed you! Where have you been, Darling?" he was smiling, moving eagerly towards her, and Lucy's heart was warmed.

It was hard to know what she felt towards Harry these days. He could be cruel and unkind to her, and downright tyrannical to Jack, but there were moments when Lucy really believed that he loved her.

She felt as though she was seeing two images of Harry. The one when she was with him, and the one when she was with Jack. It was hard to know which one was the real Harry.

Harry pulled her into his arms, and held her close.

He stroked her hair gently, the motion soothing Lucy.

"I've missed you," he murmured in her ear.

Lucy closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. Next to her ear she could hear the twin thumping of his two hearts, beating out a perfect rhythm against each other.

"It's been such a long day, Dearest. Why don't we retire to our rooms?" Harry suggested gently.

Lucy nodded, but stayed where she was, her eyes closed.

Harry tipped her chin up, and kissed her.

Jack's face rose to her mind, unbidden.

_Author's Note: Believe it or not I've been doing a LOT of thinking about this story lately. The chapters are darn right hard to get down on paper right now, but I have a lot of ideas for subsequent chapters. And each is darker than the last. But dark in a good way, you know? You have been warned. _

_As for you people out there who said you also wanted to write a Jack/Lucy story… go for it!! We can create our own ship and sail it right along with all the popular ones. Jack/Lucy has the advantage of being totally new and interesting and slightly off the wall. There are so many plots that could be written, and none of them have been done yet, so they are not cliché. Think about it. _


	5. Chapter 4

Lucy felt pleased with herself. It wasn't often she overheard news from the outside world, but sometimes when Harry was very excited, or very angry, he didn't bother to lower his voice.

Today it had been the latter. Once again he had gotten extremely close to catching Martha Jones. And once again she had slipped through his nets. They had actually captured her this time, and she had escaped by some means. No one knew how. Harry was writhing. Lucy knew enough to stay out of his way when he was like this.

She slipped down the corridors like a shadow. It wasn't hard. She felt like a shadow most of the time anyways. A dark stain against the whiteness of the walls and furniture of her suite. The servants' passage ways weren't like those on the upper levels of the Valiant. They were cramped and narrow, the atmosphere sickly from the neon lights overhead. There were no windows here. Lucy wasn't at all sure what she was doing was the right thing, but she couldn't find Tish Jones anywhere else.

The galley kitchen was large and full of steam and smoke and heat when Lucy stumbled into it. The clattering of dishes and chopping of knives stopped as the staff caught sight of her.

"Mrs. Saxon?" a cook near her asked tentatively.

"I… ah… I must have taken a wrong turning. So sorry," Lucy said, turning quickly. The truth was, she had no idea where the Jones' quarters were, and she was too afraid of discovery to ask anyone. Lucy continued to wander, eventually finding herself at the other side of the Valiant, near the board rooms. She poked her head into one, glad of the large room and the fresh breeze that was coming from an open window. The executive part of the ship was a rabbit warren of meeting rooms and executive offices, nearly all deserted now that Harry didn't have to keep up the pretense of running a government.

Lucy nearly collided with a large stack of towels. They went scattering everywhere.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone came down here…" the girl trailed off as she looked up to see who it was she had bumped into. "Oh. It's you."

Lucy helped her gather up the rest of the towels, shuddering as she touched them. They were all spotless white.

"I need to talk to you," she said out of the side of her mouth.

"What is it?" Tish asked harshly.

"Not here." Lucy jerked her head towards an empty board room. Tish followed, her arms laden with the heap of unfolded towels.

As soon as they were both in the room, Lucy shut the door and bolted it. The sound of the bolt scraping across the door gave her an assured feeling.

Tsh dumped her heap of towels onto the long table, and crossed her arms defensively.

"Well?" she asked.

Lucy scanned the room with her eyes, even though she knew there was no one there already. Only when she was satisfied they where completely alone did she begin to talk.

"Have you heard word of your sister?" she asked.

Tish's face contorted, as if she was trying not to cry.

"Come to gloat, have you? You know as well as I do they captured her. It was all over the radio chatter."

"Then you didn't hear," Lucy said.

"Hear what?" Tish asked impatiently.

"She got away. Martha got away."

Tish let out a long breath, and sank down into one of the captain's chairs that stood around the table. She sagged with relief.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"I heard Harry screaming about it. He was furious. They had her in custody, and she slipped away," Lucy said.

"Thank God," Tish whispered, burying her head in her hands. She sat still for a moment, as if recovering her strength. Then, she looked up at Lucy.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked. "You're supposed to be the enemy."

Lucy shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know," she replied. "I just… thought you had the right to know. She's your sister. I never had a sister, but if I did… I would want someone to tell me that she was safe again."

Tish's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What do you want in return for this information?" she asked.

Lucy shook her head.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you doing it?" Tish repeated insistently.

"I don't _know_," Lucy said exasperated. "I tried to talk myself out of it, but it just seemed like I had to. You have a right to know."

"Oh," Tish said uncertainly. "Thank… thank you."

"You're welcome," Lucy said stiffly.

"If the Master finds out that you told me, you'll get in lots of trouble, won't you?" Tish asked, smiling crookedly.

"Probably," Lucy said with a sigh. "But he'll be angry anyways if he knows I'm visiting Jack. Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb."

Tish smiled again. A real smile this time, which lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle.

"Jack told me you were visiting him. I couldn't think why. Now, I think I sort of see."

Lucy ran her fingers through her hair.

"I don't know why I do it," she admitted. "Jack's… well… he's…"

"He's great, isn't he?" Tish asked, beginning to refold the tangled heap of towels. Lucy wanted to help her, but she couldn't bring herself to touch them again. "Handsome and kind and… just Jack."

"Yes," Lucy agreed. "Just Jack."

"I have to go," Tish said, folding the last of her towels. "The linen lady is a Nazi and I'm late as it is." She walked to the door with her stack in her arms, and then paused. "Thank you, Mrs. Saxon," she said.

"Lucy," Lucy said softly. "Call me Lucy."

"Thank you, _Lucy_," Tish repeated. "I won't forget what you did today."

"You're welcome," Lucy murmured, watching the door close behind the other girl. She stayed in the board room a long time after Tish had left, gazing out the window and thinking.

--

When Lucy went into the Throne Room, Harry wasn't there. She felt relief wash over her. That meant she wouldn't have to deal with him right now. She had spent the last two hours sitting in an empty board room, thinking about why she had talked to Tish. It was one thing to bring Jack food, and bandage his wounds. It was another to pass information on to the enemy. But were the Jones' really the enemy? And if so, was Jack the enemy as well?

These questions continued to swirl in her mind as she went into the large room. She had stayed away as long as she had dared, but she had to come out sooner or later, and it was best for Harry to find her here, if he was going to find her at all.

Harry was no where to be found, but the room was not unoccupied. The aged man who had once been the Doctor sat in his wheelchair, brooding. He had always made Lucy feel slightly uncomfortable, but today he just looked sad.

"Hello," she said tentatively.

In spite of everything, he smiled at her, the wrinkles showing around his mouth.

"Lucy, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"You're called the Doctor, aren't you?" she asked.

"That's right," he looked down at himself. "Although, I usually don't look like this."

Lucy smiled in spite of herself.

"Jack said you were vain," she said.

A light came into the Doctor's eyes that hadn't been there before. It was something that Lucy hadn't seen in _anyone's_ eyes for a long time. Hope.

"You've seen Jack? He's alright?" he asked breathlessly.

"Alright isn't the word I would use," Lucy said, with a small catch in her throat. "But he's alive."

The Doctor chuckled lightly.

"I don't think anything could prevent _that_," he said.

Lucy looked down at her hands.

"Not even Harry, no matter how hard he tries," she said softly.

The Doctor searched her face.

"Is he torturing Jack? Is that what the Master is doing?"

"Harry thinks he can find out how Jack became immortal," Lucy said. "And use it for himself."

The Doctor snorted and sank back into this wheelchair.

"Not even the Master could do that. And I'm not sure he'd want to, one he finds out from Jack what it's like never to die. That always was a ridiculous ambition of his."

"You've known Harry a long time, haven't you?" Lucy asked.

"Many hundreds of years," the Doctor said with a sigh. "We're the same species, you know."

Lucy nodded. She had known that.

"You're the last of your kind," she said.

"Yes," the Doctor looked old and tired as he said it. "Just the Master and me. The last of the Time Lords."

Lucy gathered up her courage to ask the Doctor something that had long puzzled her.

"Why did Harry call himself 'the Master'?" she asked. "Is it a nickname? Does he have a real name? I'm not thick enough to think that Harry Saxon is his true name."

"You're right about that," the Doctor agreed. "We choose names for ourselves. I chose the Doctor. To help people, heal hurts, put things to right. He chose the Master. To dominate. To take and conquer and pillage. It suits both of us, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Lucy said softly. "But he… he can't be all bad, can he?" Some part of her wanted desperately to believe that her husband was a good man, in spite of everything.

"I don't believe anyone's all bad," the Doctor said. "But I've been fighting against the Master for so long, and if he has a good side, I've never seen it. He only manipulates people into thinking he does. He plays on people's expectations that he's a good person deep down inside, and uses them."

Lucy nodded, feeling numb. She wanted to reject the Doctor's words, to throw them as far away from her as she could, but she knew he was right. Deep down inside she had always known that Harry was using her. She was his source of wealth, his way into the political sphere through her father's connections, his ability to seem softer with a beautiful wife at his side.

"Yes," Lucy said, feeling hollow inside.

The Doctor looked at her sadly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so, so sorry."

--

"I was just informed of the oddest thing," Harry said as he came up behind Lucy. She was standing on the balcony off their suite, watching the sun set in a blaze of colour. She loved the sunset. It was sometimes the only colour that invaded the pristine white world that she lived in.

She turned around to look at him.

"Harry?" she asked, trying to look happy to see him.

"I was just told," he continued. "That you had a rather cozy chat with the Doctor." His smiled faded. "What did you talk about?"

"Nothing," Lucy stuttered. "Just… I was curious about him."

There was something in Harry's eye that she was afraid of. He had a wild look about him.

"What did you talk about?" he repeated.

"I asked him about his name," Lucy said, knowing a half truth was more believable than a lie. "He said he was called the Doctor because he liked to heal people."

"Don't lie to me," Harry said, his eyes sparking dangerously.

"It's not a lie," Lucy said, backing away from Harry, frightened.

"Come now. Tell your dear loving husband the truth," Harry said persuasively. "Honesty is important in a marriage, Beloved."

"That's all," Lucy said, taking another step back.

Harry raised his hand, and Lucy flinched.

Harry gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"When I want to hit you, Dearest, you won't have any warning." He said, his voice icy. Then, he raised his hand again.

--

Lucy cowered in the corner for what felt like hours, the hot tears coursing down her cheeks. She didn't even try to stop them. They felt like a relief after the pain. She cradled her left arm protectively to her. It ached fiercely, with occasional stabs of pain if she moved it at all. She sat as still as she could. It didn't hurt as much if she didn't move.

It had gotten dark, but Lucy made no move to turn on the lights. She hadn't moved at all since Harry had given her a contemptuous look and left the room.

Lucy shook from exhaustion and pain, but couldn't force her aching limbs to move. She just sat there, crying until she had nothing left to cry. The moon was up now, and she could see its pale face through the large French windows that lead to the balcony.

The Doctor had been right. Harry didn't care about her. Harry had been using her. Nobody cared about her. She was all alone in this world. Death would have been a welcome relief, but Harry hadn't hit her that hard.

There was a creak as the door to the suite opened. For one heart stopping moment, Lucy thought Harry had come back. But instead of his suit-clad shape silhouetted in the moonlight, it was a figure in a puffy skirt. She turned on the lights, and Lucy squinted at the sudden brightness.

"What in the world?" cried a familiar voice. It was Tish Jones. She was running up to Lucy.

"Mrs. … I mean, Lucy. What are you doing on the floor? In the dark?" Tish grasped Lucy's hurt arm to help her to her feet.

Lucy cried out in pain, and Tish dropped her arm immediately.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," whispered Lucy. "It wasn't you." She pulled back the sleeve of her shirt to reveal a thin white arm mottled with purple bruises.

Tish hissed in sympathy.

"Did he do this to you?" she asked.

Lucy nodded.

"Evil man!" Tish exclaimed. "Horrible, evil, horrible…" she sputtered, trying to find the right words. "How long have you been here?"

"Long time," Lucy said. "Not Harry's fault. He was angry about Martha."

Tish snorted.

"Of course it was his fault. He did this to you, didn't he?"

Lucy nodded, not having the strength to deny it again.

"Let's get you up," Tish said, helping her to her feet, carefully avoiding her injured arm. "I'm no doctor, but that looks like it might be broken," touched the arm that Lucy held to her chest.

"I… I don't know," Lucy said. Her brain was foggy with pain and exhaustion .

Tish helped her settle back on the couch, and then turned away.

"Don't leave me!" Lucy said, clutching at Tish's arm. "Don't leave me alone. Please!"

Tish turned back, a gentle look on her delicate features.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm just going to turn out the light. I'll stay until you sleep."

But Lucy's eyes were already drifting shut. At least one good thing had come out of this: she wasn't alone any more.

_Author's Note: A few people have complained about how harsh Tish was. Well, can you blame her? Lucy is the wife of the man that has singlehandedly ruined the whole world, and is hunting down Martha, her sister. And even if she isn't actively participating, by not trying to stop him, Lucy is inadvertently agreeing with what he is doing. In court, she'd be called an accessory to murder._

_So of course Tish has every right to be mad. Tish is also more like her mother Francine than Martha is. And Francine is… well… unforgiving is a good term for her. Harsh is another. But I have plans for Tish. She's becoming more and more a part of my ultimate plan. I have a feeling Tish Jones may surprise everyone after all. _

_Jack's such a sweetie, isn't he? He's so fun to write fics about cuz you can ship him with just about anyone and make it canon. Jack/anyone just works! I like him a lot better in Doctor Who than in Torchwood. He's too moody in Torchwood. And what's with all the standing on roofs? It's a little too overdramatic… I prefer the cheeky Jack that he is around the Doctor. So that's the one that's portrayed here. _

_I already have the next chapter planned out, so it shouldn't be long in coming. Depending on if I get suckered into helping paint the house or not. _


	6. Chapter 5

"You're lucky. It's only a fracture. What happened again?" the Dr. Stevens asked, peering suspiciously at Lucy.

"I… I fell," Lucy said.

"Well you'll have to be more careful for the next couple of weeks. You won't need a cast, but I'm giving you a sling and you're not to take it of or move your arm if you can help it. I'll give you another check up in a couple of days." Dr. Stevens carefully fitted the sling over Lucy's arm. The movement made her arm throb horribly, and she had to bite her lip to stifle a scream of pain.

"There. Now remember, no moving it."

Lucy nodded as she slid off the chair, and made for the door. But once she was outside, she was unsure of where to go. She didn't want to go back to her suite. Harry might be there, and she couldn't face him right now. Aimlessly, she wandered the upper corridors of the Valiant. She was restless, and her arm hurt less when her mind was distracted.

Her feet lead her to the executive part of the ship. It was always quiet there, and being on the upper levels it wasn't dark and depressing. Opening doors, she peered into the rooms to see if they were empty. Several had staff cleaning them. Lucy closed those doors abruptly, not really wanting to have to explain her sling to anyone.

She opened another door and peeked in. It appeared to be empty, so she walked in, looking around. It was a lounge, with plush red chairs and couches. It had the look of having been left abruptly, and never come back to.

An abandoned game of chess half way through a play stood on the table. Lucy looked at it intensely. That's what her life felt like sometimes. Someone had stopped playing but left all the pieces scattered. Reaching down, she picked up the white queen, turning it over in her hand. Thoughtfully, she put a pawn where the queen had stood.

"There. That's the right place for you," she said, slipping the queen piece into her pocket. "A pawn. That's all I really am anyways."

The door opened.

Lucy's head whipped around. She saw the figure come in, and sighed with relief.

"Tish. It's only you," she said.

Tish looked uncomfortable.

"I can't talk to you right now," she said, starting to close the door. Lucy leaped up from her seat.

"Please don't go," she cried. Tish came into the room, but there was an unreadable expression on her face.

They sat down on opposite chairs.

"How's your arm?" Tish asked stiffly.

"The doctor says it's fractured. It should be ok in six weeks," Lucy said.

"That's good," Tish replied. She looked down at her shoes. There was a long, awkward silence.

Lucy felt panic rise. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! Tish was supposed to be her friend! Tish was the one who had found her when Harry had beaten her. Tish was supposed to be someone who cared.

Tish rose from her seat on one of the plush chairs, and made for the door.

"I shouldn't be talking to you. I have to go," she said.

"Why?" Lucy asked, feeling hurt and confused. "You talked to me before. You even helped me. I thought things had changed between us."

"Why would they?" Tish asked, the venom in her voice stinging.

"B… because I told you about Martha," Lucy said.

"And you think that makes up for everything?" Tish's voice was rising.

"I thought it meant something," Lucy replied, studying her shoes.

"Maybe it did. But it doesn't make up for the fact that you're still with him. And he's still searching for Martha. And…. Oh I don't know! Mum was right. This is a horrible idea." She turned to face Lucy. "Look. We can't be friends, ok? I'm a prisoner and my sister is a fugitive, and your husband is the one that did it. I don't care what Jack says about you, you can't be trusted."

Tish shut the door behind her with a loud bang, leaving Lucy standing alone in the empty room.

Lucy blinked, her tired brain not quite comprehending what had just happened. She looked down at the half-finished chessboard, and then took the queen out of her pocket.

"A better metaphor than I thought," she said to the piece in her hand.

--

What Tish had said had made Lucy think. She sat for several hours afterwards in her own suite, staring alternately out the window, and down at her lap, where she clutched the chess queen.

"The question is," she said to the piece, "Whether you are a real queen, or if you are in fact only a pawn that has made it to the other side of the board and been queened. And what colour are you anyways? Black or white?"

"Dearest?" Harry's voice mad her jump, jostling her injured arm painfully. She managed to slide the chess queen into her pocket as he walked towards her. For some reason, she didn't want him to see it.

"Dearest, I've been looking everywhere for you." His voice was gentle and a little reproachful.

"H… Harry," Lucy whispered, hating herself for how weak her voice sounded. Despite the lecture she had given herself, she was still shaken up from her bout with Tish.

Harry got down on his knees in front of her chair, so that he was level with her. He touched her fractured arm lightly.

"Does it hurt?" he asked sympathetically, as if he wasn't the one who had fractured it.

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

Harry took her uninjured hand.

"Dearest, I've been in agony the past few days. I can't tell you how sorry I am that this happened. You were never supposed to get hurt. But I was angry about Martha Jones, and you know how much trouble I have controlling my temper."

Lucy nodded again.

"I shouldn't have taken it out on you," he said, gently. "Will you forgive me, Darling, for making a horrible mistake?"

He sounded so sincere, and so utterly repentant, that Lucy felt her resolve crumbling.

"It was an accident," she murmured.

"That's right, Darling. A terrible accident. It won't happen again, I promise."

He smiled, and brushed a few stray strands of hair away from Lucy's face. To her surprise, she didn't flinch away from him.

"But you know," he said in the same gentle and reasonable tone, "You really should know better than to make me angry like that. You knew I was upset about that Jones girl. You shouldn't have pushed me."

Lucy nodded her agreement. Of course Harry was right. This was her fault.

"I don't enjoy hurting you," Harry continued. "But you must learn not to provoke me like that. Do you understand?" he put his hand under her chin and forced her downcast eyes to meet his.

"Yes Harry," she whispered.

"There now. Let's not have a repeat of that, shall we? If you don't make me angry again, there's no need for me ever to hurt you again. Alright?"

Lucy's head swam. He was saying all this in such a reasonable tone, as if it was the most fair thing in the world. Part of her was screaming that Tish had been right, and Harry was a bad man; but the other part of her, the part that had always listened to Harry in the past and still trusted him, was telling her that he was right, and it was her fault. Harry won. He always did.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I won't do it again," Lucy said.

Harry smiled triumphantly.

"Now there's a good girl," he said, kissing her gently. He stood up and brushed the knees of his trousers off. He headed for the door. Before he got there, he paused, and turned to her again. "Oh, and let's have no more of that crying. It makes you all red and blotchy." And then he left the room.

--

Lucy didn't want to go see Jack with her sling on, but she missed his conversation too much. The day after she had had her reconciliation with Harry, she went to Jack, carrying her usual plate of food.

Jack called out to her as she paused in the doorway.

"Is that you, Lucy? What took you so long? It's been nearly a week since you were here!"

"I'm sorry," Lucy said, stepping further into the room and the harsh light of the engines. "I couldn't get away before now."

"What happened to your arm?" Jack asked, concerned.

Lucy turned away to put her plate on the ground.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I brought you some chicken. I know how much you like it."

But Jack would not be deterred, even for food.

"What happened to you arm?" he asked again, insistently.

"I fell," Lucy lied.

Jack made a face.

"Don't you think that after so long talking to you I would know every inflection of your voice and be able to tell when you're lying?"

Lucy was a little startled. It hadn't occurred to her that Jack might know her voice as well as she now knew his.

"It was an accident," she said. After all, _that _was the truth.

"What happened?" Jack repeated.

"I fractured it. It was an accident," Lucy offered Jack a piece of chicken, but he shook his head. His eyes were serious as he gazed at Lucy.

"Was it him?" he asked, his voice steely.

Lucy was pinned by his eyes. She couldn't lie, not even to herself. Slowly, she nodded.

Jack swore violently and struggled against his chains, as if attempting to rip them out of the wall. He pulled with his arms, and the metal strained, but it held fast. He sagged against them, defeated for now.

"If I could get out of here, I'd kill him!" he yelled.

Lucy shook his head.

"It's not Harry's fault. It's mine. I made him angry. I deserve this," she said.

Jack shook his head.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" he asked.

"Harry said… Harry said it was my fault. For goading him into a temper," Lucy said.

"He hit you. He _fractured _your arm. And then he had the nerve to tell you that it was _your fault?_" Jack's eyes crackled with anger. "You can't believe him, Lucy. You _can't_. None of this is your fault, you understand? He's using you, and you're just a victim. You can't believe this is your fault, can you?"

Lucy knew this. She had known it all along. She just hadn't wanted to believe it. She wanted to desperately for Harry to love her that it almost seemed worth it to buy his love with her blame. If it meant that Harry would love her again, she was willing for it to be her fault.

But looking at Jack's furious face as he struggled helplessly against his chains, Lucy knew that it couldn't work that way.

Miserably, she shook her head.

"No," she said, quietly. A lone tear streaked down her cheek.

"Come here," Jack said. The chains wouldn't let him hold her, but Lucy came close to him, and wrapped her one arm around him. He laid his head on top of hers, and tenderly kissed her hair. "I'm so sorry, Lucy," he said.

"This isn't your fault either," Lucy whispered.

"I'm sorry I can't protect you from him," he said.

Lucy laid her ear next to his heart, and listened to its steady rhythm. It was so different from Harry's double beat, and so much more comfortingly human and familiar. Jack was so caring and kind to her. Jack, who listened to her and cared about what she said. Jack, who would have protected her against Harry if he could.

"I don't know what to do, Jack," Lucy whispered into his shirt. "I can't get away from him. I can't report him to anybody. I'm trapped."

"That makes two of us," Jack said.

"I'm so confused," Lucy admitted. "Sometimes I hate him. And sometimes I remember that there _was_ a reason why I married him, once. It's like he has some sort of power over me. Like no matter what I do, I can't get away from him, and sometimes I don't want to."

"He's abused you, Lucy. It's ok to hate him," Jack responded.

"That doesn't sound very much like your usual 'forgive everyone' stance," Lucy said, smiling in spite of herself.

Jack's laugh rumbled in his chest, and Lucy could feel it beneath her cheek.

"I'm not in a very forgiving mood tonight," he replied.

Lucy pulled away so that she could see Jack's face. Reaching up, she wiped a trail of dried blood away from his cheek, letting her hand linger there.

Jack's eyes fluttered closed, and he swallowed reflexively.

"Ah… Lucy, we…. We really can't do this right now," he said.

Lucy snatched her hand away.

"I'm sorry… I… don't know what came over me." she started to leave.

"Lucy!" Jack called after her. She paused, and turned to face him. "Lucy, come back. Please."

Lucy hadn't been meaning to come back, but the 'please' tugged at her heart. She came closer to him.

"Lucy… it's not that I don't care about you. Because I do. And it's not that you're not a beautiful and desirable woman. Because you are. But, if the Master finds out, he'll kill you. And you only have one life."

"So, you're protecting me?" Lucy ventured.

"Sort of, yeah. I would love to…. with you. _Trust _me. But it's too dangerous."

Lucy nodded, and smiled, turning to go.

"Jack?" she said, pausing in the door way. His eyes were still on her. "Thank you."

He gave a short nod.

"Any time."

_Author's Note: I'm proud of this chapter. It turned into something I didn't expect, but I flatter myself that it turned out pretty well. Every year I read an interesting history. Last year it was the history of salt; this year it's the history of the chess queen. Which is why chess managed to work itself into this chapter. It's got some really interesting stuff. For instance, did you know that the chess queen used to be a vizier when the game was Arabic? As it worked its way through Europe, the vizier slowly changed into the queen under the influence of powerful European queens like Eleanor of Aquitaine and Empress Matilda. _

_Ok, history lesson over. _

_Harry is… evil. In fact, evil doesn't even go far enough for him. He's so twisted that he convinced Lucy that it was her fault he hit her. I've never met anyone that sick but I'm told there are people like that who exist. I hope I never meet one. _

_Many thanks to I am The Lev, who let me talk out things with her, and work out plot points. Hurrah for beating off writer's block! _


	7. Chapter 6

Lucy slipped into the Throne Room. Harry had told her to be there, but she was a bit early. Her eyes turned to the Doctor, who sat in his wheelchair, his back to her, staring out the window at a blazing sunset. Lucy often did that herself, wishing she was a bird and could fly away into the cloudless blue.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" she asked, coming to stand beside him.

He smiled.

"I've seen thousands of sunsets. On thousands of planets. But I never really had time to watch the whole thing before. It's ironic," he said with a small smile. "The only time I slow down enough to enjoy the beauty of something is when I'm a prisoner."

"What's it usually like?" Lucy asked.

"Oh, you know. Run from the bad guys, save the world, have adventures. That sort of thing."

"But you don't watch sunsets?"

"When would I have the time? Your planet gets in more trouble than any other one I know. Always on the move, that's me."

"Jack says you're always getting into trouble," Lucy said.

The Doctor's face lit up at the mention of Jack.

"How is Jack?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected," Lucy answered honestly. Something about the Doctor made her franker than she would have normally been.

"Is the Master still torturing him?"

"Yes," Lucy said. "He kills Jack again and again. It's one of his favorite pastimes."

"You said he wants to find out why Jack is immortal. He always had an obsession with living forever. I can't figure out why he'd want to. You only outlive your friends." The Doctor's eyes were on the horizon again, and Lucy knew that he was remembering old friends, now long gone.

"You won't outlive Jack," Lucy said, attempting to lighten the mood.

It worked. The Doctor smiled.

"No, you're right about that. I probably won't. I ran into him in World War Two, you know."

"Yes, he said that," Lucy answered.

"He stole a march on my companion. We were competing for her attention the entire time, and Jack was winning. It wasn't till I remembered how to dance that I got her back." There was a faint smile hovering on the Doctor's lips, his face filled with the happy memory.

Lucy drew closer to him, and put her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. For all of this," she whispered.

He looked up at her, and grasped her hand.

"So am I," he said.

"Oh hoh! Darling, you're here!" Harry fairly bounced into the room.

Lucy sprang away from the Doctor as if she had been scalded. Harry didn't seem to notice. He was too busy looking delighted with himself.

"I'm glad you're here to witness this, Dearest. Something very exciting has happened! We've caught a leader of the resistance."

Lucy froze. Martha! The Doctor's face must have shown the same horror, because Harry made a face at him.

"Not your precious companion, Doctor. Not so lucky as that. But one of her compatriots, and leader of the resistance in Russia. Bring him in!"

Sentries brought in a man chained hand and foot, their guns trailed on him. Behind him, a toclafane hovered. The very sight of it made Lucy shiver. The guards forced the man to his knees in front of Harry.

"Behold," Harry said grandly. "A man who would stand up to me and my rule. We'll you aren't so tough now, are you?" He gloated.

The man spit at Harry's feet.

Harry just laughed.

"You may apologize now, and I will hear your pleas," he said.

"I would rather die," the man answered, his speech heavily accented with a Russian brogue.

"That can be arranged!" Harry yelled. Then, he seemed to calm down. "You won't apologize? That's too bad. I would have liked a show. So, you're the one that organized the resistance that's been giving me so much trouble."

Though he was on his knees, the man stood tall, his face proud and impassive. Lucy's heart ached for him. His bravery would come to nothing in the end.

"That's right," he said.

"Who else was helping you?" Harry asked.

"No one."

"Don't make me ask again. Who helped you smuggle Martha Jones out of the country?"

"I alone was responsible," the man insisted.

"Well my toclafane friend here begs to differ," Harry replied, his grin becoming manic.

Behind him, the toclafane giggled, and moved toward the man menacingly. The man's façade slipped, and he recoiled from the floating metal ball.

"Your life will be spared if you have information for me. Otherwise you're useless." Harry's smile grew large, so that all his shining white teeth could be seen. "Expendable."

"I don't know anything," the man said, his proud demeanor back.

"And if you did?" Harry asked.

A muscle twitched in the man's face.

"I wouldn't tell you."

Harry leaned closer to the man.

"Wrong answer," he said, smiling. "Because you see, only the Doctor here," he shot a contemptuous look at the weathered man beside Lucy, "Believes in second chances. Me, I think they make people soft. I'm not a soft man. Toclafane?"

"Yes, Master?" the childlike voice of the toclafane asked.

"Kill him,"

"Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes!" the toclafane giggled manically.

"No!" the Doctor cried, trying to stand up in his wheelchair. His strength was not enough, and he fell back. "Don't do this, Master! Let this man go! Don't do this!"

Harry laughed.

"See what I mean? See what you've been reduced to, Doctor? Pleading for doomed men's lives. Well this one can't use it. He's already gone." Harry looked the man in the eye. "Have you anything to say?"

"We will fight your tyranny no matter what you do. We will fight and we will win. You cannot keep us in slavery and oppression forever," the man replied, getting more spirited with each word.

Harry yawned.

"Yadda yadda yadda. You all say the same thing. Can't you ever think of something original?" he signaled to the toclafane. "Time's up. Das Vidanya."

Lucy looked away. She knew what was coming.

The toclafane aimed its ray, and shot the man.

"No!" the Doctor yelled, struggling to his feet. But it was too late. The man crumpled in a charred heap on the floor.

The Master laughed.

"You're so pathetic it's almost amusing," he said to the Doctor, pushing him back into his wheelchair. . Then, he turned to Lucy. "Will you come with me, Dearest?"

Lucy struggled to find her voice.

"I think I'll stay," she said. "The… the sunset," she pointed vaguely to the window, where the last crimson rays of the sun were dipping below the horizon, bathing the whole room in a red glow. Before it had been cheery; now it was sinister.

Harry shrugged.

"Suit yourself. Don't be too long." He was too buoyed up by his killing of the man to care much what she was doing. "Clean up this mess," he said to the guards as he left the room.

The guards moved the body, and all was quiet in the throne room again.

The Doctor fell back in his wheelchair, panting.

"Why didn't you try to stop him?" he demanded.

Lucy stared out the window.

"What is it you think I could have done?" she asked.

"You could have stopped him from killing that man! You could have done _something_. Instead you just stood there!" the Doctor said furiously.

"I didn't have a choice," Lucy said, turning to the Doctor as her anger got the better of her.

The Doctor's eyes shining out of his wrinkled face seemed old beyond reckoning, and filled with deep sadness.

"You always have a choice," he said.

Lucy glared at him, and pointed at her arm, which was still in its sling.

"Last time I stood up to him, he fractured my arm. The next time, he'll kill me. Don't you think I would try to stop it if I could? But I don't. I _don't_ have a choice."

The Doctor's ancient eyes pierced into her.

"Choices have consequences, and dying may be one of them. But you always have a choice, Lucy."

Lucy turned on her heals and marched out of the room, the Doctor's words echoing in her head.

--

"When I was a kid I used to love these," Jack said, his mouth full of pink and purple striped ice cream.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Lucy chastised, thinking to herself that watching Jack devour the treat was worth the risking discovery dipping into Harry's private store.

"Bossy," Jack grumbled.

Lucy smiled at his childishness, and fed him another spoonful.

"I talked to the Doctor yesterday," Lucy said.

"Oh yeah? What did he say?"

"We talked about you," Lucy said, leaving out the Russian rebel. Jack didn't need to hear about any of that. "He told me about how you two met. In World War Two, he said."

"That's right. Those were good times."

"He said you nearly stole his companion away from him," Lucy said, watching for his reaction. To her relief, Jack laughed.

"He would say that. Nah, she always belonged to him anyways."

Lucy felt the curious stab of jealousy that she had felt before when this girl was mentioned.

"He was chatty then?" Jack continued. "I heard he never says anything to the Master."

"He says some things," Lucy said, thinking of the Doctor pleading for the rebel's life. "And he talked to me."

Jack nodded sagely.

"I'm not surprised. He always had a weakness for blonds."

Lucy laughed.

"He must be hundreds of years old! I doubt that's what he was thinking!"

"I'm over a hundred," Jack said, giving her a sideways glance.

"But you don't look it," Lucy argued.

Jack grinned.

"Neither did the Doctor, once upon a time."

"True," Lucy agreed.

Jack contemplated the half-finished bowl of ice cream.

"My mom used to give me some money and we'd go together to the corner store and buy junk food, and eat it all the way back home," Jack smiled at the memory. "We'd sit outside on the front step and see who could make the best face when we ate sour candies." He smiled at the recollection.

"Did you have any other family?" Lucy asked. She regretted it instantly when a shadow crossed Jack's face.

"No. My little brother and father died when I was 12. It was just me and Mom most of the time," his face brightened, and a small smile appeared. "That's why I joined the Time Agents- to make Mom proud."

"She would be proud of you," Lucy murmured.

Jack gave her a tender smile.

"What about you, Lucy? Do you have any family?"

Lucy shook her head.

"Not any more. My mother died when I was a baby. I don't remember her. My father was a politician. He was always busy or… angry. He drank a lot. I was brought up mostly by the housekeeper till I was 11, and then I was in and out of boarding schools. I hardly saw him. He died in a car crash when I was 17."

"I'm sorry," Jack said, his voice gentle.

Lucy shook her head.

"Like I said, I hardly saw him except on summer holidays. And even then, we just lived in the same house. We didn't actually do anything together. He left me his fortune, which made me an heiress. I suppose that's why Harry noticed me."

Jack's eyes travelled up and down Lucy, causing a blush to tinge her cheeks.

"I'm pretty sure that's not why he noticed you."

Lucy smiled at him fondly, but ignored his comment.

"I spent my holidays at the family estate, Tarminster. It was beautiful there. All trees and sunshine and endless days outside. Nobody cared much what I did, so I sort of ran wild all over the grounds. I had a fort a tree where I would play for hours. I would sit out on the balcony overlooking the lake, and read in the sunshine. And if it rained, I explored the house. It was so big and old and it's been in the Cole family for generations." Lucy felt the happiness of those long-ago days wash over her.

"That sounds nice," Jack said, smiling. "Tell me more about it." He closed his eyes, as if to picture what she was describing.

"My bedroom was huge. The bed had a canopy over it, and was raised on clawed feet. It was much too big for me when I was little, but I loved it. The double windows opened to a view of the lawn down to the lake, and right in front I had a huge chair that I would read in all the time. In the afternoons I would ride my horse over to the neighbouring estate, where a friend of mine lived. We chummed around all summer, played and laughed and took rides and walks in the wooded areas. I was a fearless swimmer, I climbed trees, I ran and won races. And then when we were tired we would lie down on the grass and wait for the stars to come out." Lucy smiled. She hadn't thought about those times in years.

"You should go back there, when this is all over," Jack said, opening his eyes.

Lucy shook her head.

"I can't. Harry sold Tarminster to pay for his campaign," A thought came to Lucy quite suddenly. "It probably isn't even there any more. It's probably been destroyed in everything that's going on." She looked down at her shoes. She mourned the loss of the one place where she had been happy.

"That's nothing," Jack said. "Wait till your home isn't there yet."

If Jack's intention had been to lighten Lucy's spirits, and bring her thoughts back to more cheerful things, he succeeded. She laughed out loud.

"It's hard to believe you were born in the future," she said.

Jack grinned widely.

"Yup. I used to think the 21st century was the most exciting time ever. Used to play I was there, imagine what it would have been like. I couldn't want to be a Time Agent so I could see it for myself. The 21st century is when it all changes," He proclaimed.

Lucy scrunched up her nose.

"That sounds familiar. Are you sure you haven't said that before?"

"You need to stop listening to me," Jack said, offhand.

Lucy giggled.

"_That _ won't be hard."

"Gee, thanks," Jack replied.

They both grinned at each other.

--

Lucy sat on her bed, turning the chess queen over and over in her hand. She couldn't get the Doctor's words out of her head. He had said she had a choice. What choice did she have? She was as helpless as a puppet on strings; as helpless as a… as a chess piece. Others made the rules, defined her actions, and dictated her moves.

_"You always have a choice," _

The words repeated endlessly in her head. Over and over she heard him say them; over and over she saw the look of sadness and disappointment in his ancient eyes.

"What choice do I have?" she asked the queen in her hand. "Stop playing the game? What would that prove? What good would I be to anyone dead?"

The glass figure did not answer.

Lucy moved her fingers over the cool surface of the chess piece, tracing its contours with her fingertips.

"What choice do _you_ have?" she asked it. "Your every move s dictated. A rook has to go in straight lines. It can't go diagonal even if it wanted to. The bishop can, but it can't go straight. A knight can only go in "L" shapes, even if by moving another way he could check the king. You don't have any more choice than I do."

Again, the queen said nothing.

Lucy turned it over again, tapping her fingernail against its surface.

"You're just a pawn," she murmured.

Then, she sat up suddenly, the force of the unexpected revelation stunning her for a moment.

"No, you're not," she said slowly. "You're not a pawn, you're a _queen_. Everyone's moves are dictated, except yours. You can move any way you want. Backwards, forwards, sideways. You have freedom."

Lucy sat back on her pillows.

"Not total freedom," she admitted. "Someone still moves the pieces. But within that, you have the most freedom of any piece. You have power no one else has."

She paused for a moment, thinking about the implication of what she had just said.

"I am the queen," she said finally. "It's me. I have the freedom on the board. I am closest to the king."

Lucy waiting in another shocked silence. The whole world seemed to stand still, waiting for her to react. She turned the chess piece over in her hand again.

"So now, the question remains," she said to the queen. "Am I a white queen or a black queen?"

As ever, the glass figure kept its own council.

Lucy set it on the small table beside her bed, and turned out the light.

_Author's Note: Poor Lucy. I imagine she was much neglected and forgotten as a child. Which is probably why she latched on to the first person to show her what she thought was genuine affection: Harry. My thoughts about her wealth is that Harry used most of it to fund his campaign, and Lucy was so wrapped up in him she didn't object. _

_Guess what? I finally know where this story is going! (claps and cheers). I managed to plan it all out so that everything fits in with the canon story line. My careful plotting will make this story a lot easier to write, and thank goodness for that. _

_This has been a tough fic! I'm not used to writing tragedy. I'm much more of a fluff writer. I've had to mix the writing of this up with my other story, New New Life, which is much lighter, just so I can have some relief, and remember that there is some happiness in the world, LOL. _

_I know the chess queen can't do every move. She can't do the knight's right? But for the sake of Lucy's argument, let's just go with every move. Otherwise the metaphor doesn't work quite as nicely. _

_My thanks to I am the Lev and AstanteSanaSquashBanana for their ideas and encouragement. Couldn't do without you guys! _


	8. Chapter 7

Lucy leaned weakly against the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, and groaned. She hadn't felt this bad since her hangover days at college. In fact, she hadn't felt this bad since a memorable day when her netball team had won the championships, and her whole team had celebrated till four in the morning. She was a vodka girl back then. The memory of many, many shots made her smile.

Then, she wished she hadn't. Her stomach gave another heave, and she made it just in time.

With shaking hands, she poured herself a cup of water, and rinsed out her mouth. Her stomach was empty now, except for a few swallows of water, but even the thought of food was repulsive.

She moved her arm the wrong way in an attempt to grab a towel, and winced at the sudden pain that shot through it. Although it was no longer in a sling, it still hurt when bent the wrong way.

Another wave of nausea hit, and she heaved, but her stomach was empty. She settled back on the tiles, and leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. This was _not_ the time to get sick. She couldn't afford to have the flu right now. Harry expected her to be constantly at his side, and he didn't consider the flu a very good excuse to be absent.

A wave of longing washed over her for Neda, the housekeeper who had stood in the place of a mother for most of Lucy's childhood. She had always been there to sooth when Lucy was sick as a child. She wished Neda was here now, to rub her back, and help her into bed, and fetch her a glass of orange juice and some dry toast.

Lucy shook her head with a sad smile. Neda was probably dead now anyways. Along with the rest of the world.

--

The sight and smell of food made Lucy feel sick all over again. But she knew that Jack hadn't been fed properly since the last time she was there. Harry's new experiments included various degrees of starvation, to see what would happen.

She set the sandwich she had brought down on the worktable, and pushed it as far away from herself as she could.

"Don't like ham and cheese?" Jack asked, watching her curiously.

"It's making me nauseous," Lucy admitted. She stood for a moment clutching the edge of the table to steady herself.

Jack winced in sympathy.

"Maybe you should go lie down instead of being here," he said. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, but you look like you're going to fall over."

Lucy took a deep, calming breath, and shook her head.

"No, I'm ok. It'll pass. Besides, I brought a game."

Out of the bag flung over her shoulder, she pulled out the chess board that she had found in that empty board room so long ago.

Jack flashed her one of his charming smiles, and she felt a strange bubble of warmth rise up in her chest.

"I've got to warn you, I'm a chess champ. Just because you're beautiful doesn't mean I'll let you win," he said.

Lucy smiled and shook her head.

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

She dragged the rough work table in front of Jack, and pulled up a chair. Carefully, she began to set up the board, putting all the pieces on their squares.

"I used to play chess with my dad," Jack said, watching her as she arranged the pieces. "He would beat me so badly every time. But we still played. He said that it would help my strategy when I was a Time Agent."

"They still have chess in the future?" Lucy asked, surprised.

"Sure. It's one of those things that's timeless. Like Agatha Christy, or the Beatles. Never goes out of style."

"I learned it in school," Lucy said. "We had a class on it."

"What kind of school did you go to?" Jack asked, making a face.

"A posh one," Lucy responded airily.

"Yeah. I can see that."

"I used to be quite good at chess," Lucy remembered. "But that was a long time ago. I haven't played it since then. Didn't have time after I met Harry."

"I haven't played it in a long time either," Jack said. He looked down at the board, which by now was set with pieces. "You forgot something," he pointed out.

"Hmmmm?" Lucy asked.

"You're missing a piece on your side," Jack repeated.

Lucy looked down at the board, and then smiled.

"Oh yes. How could I forget about her?"

She reached into her pocket, and pulled out the chess queen. She had taken to carrying it with her, to remind her of the Doctor's words that everything was a choice. Almost reluctantly, she placed the queen down on the board.

"Friend of yours?" Jack asked.

Lucy smiled.

"That's right. We're old friends."

Jack looked at her curiously, but Lucy looked away, unwilling to answer his unspoken question.

"Fine, then. Keep your secrets. Secrets make a woman intriguing. You be white. Beauty should always go before age."

Even though Lucy was used to Jack's constant flirting by now, she still felt a blush rise on her cheeks.

"Why do you always say things like that?" she asked.

"What? That you're beautiful? Well it's true, isn't it?"

Lucy shook her head.

"I don't think so."

"You don't see what I see. Besides, you're cute when you're flustered," Jack flashed her another of his smiles.

Lucy was annoyed at herself. She shouldn't let him charm her so easily. She shouldn't let herself be drawn in. Jack was the epitome of unavailable. And yet his smile made her knees go weak and her heart flutter. It just wasn't _fair_.

"And anyways," he said, catching the look that crossed Lucy's face. "You like it."

Lucy rolled her eyes, attempting to brush off his obvious effect on her.

"You never give up, do you?" she asked.

"Nope," answered Jack, cheerfully. "Your move."

Lucy moved her pawn two spaces to B5.

Jack looked quizzically at the board on the table.

"Knight to C3" he said.

Lucy frowned.

"You can't start off a game with your knight."

"Sure I can. It's a free country, isn't it?"

Lucy winced at the inaccuracy of that statement. Especially considering Jack was chained to the wall.

"Nowhere in the rule book does it say I can't start with a knight," Jack said, with his usual air of cocky assurance.

Lucy grumbled, but couldn't refute him.

"Your move," Jack smirked.

"Fine," Lucy moved another pawn two spaces ahead to C5.

"Pawn to E4," Jack instructed.

Lucy moved his pawn. Then another of hers to E5, so that in the middle of the board their two pawns stood face to face in a showdown.

Jack considered the board.

"Pawn to A4," he instructed.

Without considering it much, Lucy moved her pawn at the far end of the board one space to G5.

"Pawn to B5. Hah. Gotcha!" Jack gloated, as his pawn captured hers.

Lucy winced, and moved her pawn to A6.

"Pawn to A6. You're not paying attention!" Jack scolded, as his pawn once again took one of hers.

Lucy moved her rook to A6, taking his pawn. She held up triumphantly.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Pawn to G4."

Lucy moved her rook down to A3.

"My dad and I used to play for hours," Jack said, smiling at the memory. "He would sit me down and say 'Jack, I want you to learn that short term gains don't mean a long term win'. He said that to me every time. Like it was something new. And I've always remembered it."

"Did you always want to be a Time Agent?" Lucy asked.

"Ever since I was a kid. It was Dad's dream, and then after he died it became mine. Time Agents were celebrities. Like Astronauts in the 1960s. They were daring adventurers, boldly going where no man had gone before. My Mom was so proud of me when I left for the Academy. The whole town turned out to see me go. It was a tiny town, and I was sort of a poster boy," Jack paused, and sighed. "I guess I figured that I would have gotten out by now. Even for someone who travels in time, two hundred years is a long time on the job. I figured I would have retired by now. Found myself a nice girl who thought I was mysterious and exciting, bought a house with a white picket fence and started a family."

Lucy raised an eyebrow.

"White picket fence? You don't seem the type. Isn't that a bit too tied down for a philanderer like you?"

"Philanderer? Lucy, you wound me," Jack said in mock indignation.

"Jack, you flirt with everything that moves," Lucy pointed out, smiling.

"True," Jack conceded. Then, he turned serious. "But when I was a kid I wanted the house and the picket fence and a garden out back with a grove of trees, and a really big car in the driveway."

Lucy laughed.

"What is it about men and cars?"

"It's something about ego, and having more toys than the next guy," Jack said.

"Do you still want those things?" Lucy asked, looking up at him.

"A really big car? Of course. Who doesn't?"

"I mean the house with the white picket fence."

Jack looked thoughtful.

"I thought I had grown out of it when I went off to be a time explorer. But I've seen so many things and gone so many places since then. I've seen a lot of terrible things. It seems to me that domesticity is looking much better now than it used to. I even think about that house sometimes."

A picture rose unbidden to Lucy's mind. Cookies cooling on the counter while she tided up the kitchen; Jack snagging a freshly baked cookie before sweeping her into his arms and kissing her; two children making faces at the display from the other room; Jack catching up a golden-haired toddler and tossing her up into the air while she squealed with delight.

The image was so clear, so real that Lucy could almost reach out and touch it. A fierce longing awakened in her for that image to become a reality. She sat still, shaken by the force of her longing. A house with Jack? Children with Jack? Where had that come from? And since when did she want it so much?

"… big tree in the backyard to build a tree house in," Jack continued, unaware of Lucy's ruffled demeanor.

"Lace curtains in the windows," Lucy supplied, recovering. "Blue gingham table cloth on the kitchen table. Cookies cooling on the counter. You'd steal one before they were cool and burn your fingers."

"What can I say? I'm impatient," Jack said.

"Sunshine coming in the window. A vase of flowers sitting on the kitchen table. Green furniture in the front room," continued Lucy, already furnishing the house in her imagination. Her house would be full of colour, she just knew it. Colour and light and laughter.

"Green? No way," Jack grimaced. "Maybe red. Red is a manly colour."

"Red would clash with the blue walls," Lucy reasoned.

"Who says they're blue?" Jack asked.

"Me. They are." Lucy said decidedly. "It's a greeny-blue to match the furniture. Red furniture would make the whole room look like Christmas."

"Then where will my red armchair go?" Jack asked.

"What red armchair?"

"My favorite one. I have it in my office at Torchwood. When I'm stressed or I've had a long day fighting aliens and saving the world I always throw myself into that chair and relax. It's just right for me. So where would it go if not in the living room?"

"In the family room of course," Lucy answered. "In front of the fireplace."

"Fine," Jack agreed. "As long as the kids don't jump all over it and make it lumpy and out of shape. And there's a big screen TV in there too, but that has its own couch in front of it."

"Fine. And a room full of books."

Jack nodded.

"With dark wood paneling and bookshelves lining the walls, and big squishy chairs to read in. In the tower room."

Lucy raised her eyebrow.

"Tower room?"

"Sure. Every house has to have a round tower room. With a window seat."

"Covered in cushions," Lucy added.

"Exactly."

They lapsed into silence, and for a moment Lucy let herself be caught up in the happy dream of their beautiful house and life together.

Jack sighed, breaking Lucy's dream like a soap bubble bursting in the air.

"Not exactly a possibility right now is it?" he asked, looking down at the chains that held him in place between the two pillars.

"No, not really," Lucy said, with a sad smile. "But it's a beautiful _chateau dans l'Espagne_."

"A which?" Jack asked.

"A _chateau dans L'Espagne_. A castle in Spain. A beautiful dream."

"Yeah. It is. It's something to hold on to, anyways. Like your summer house."

Lucy nodded, not mentioning that this castle in Spain was full of mischievous children with Jack's cheeky smile.

Jack stomach growled loudly, pulling Lucy once again from her thoughts. She and Jack exchanged glances, and stated laughing.

"Hungry?" Lucy asked.

"Nahhhhh…" Jack drawled.

Lucy reached over their half-finished game of chess, and picked up the abandoned sandwich. She broke it in half with one swift gesture. The smell, slight as it was, made her stomach churn. Taking a deep breath to tamp down the rising nausea, Lucy held up a half for Jack to take a bite.

"Problem?" Jack asked, swallowing his bite.

"It's making me feel ill again," Lucy admitted.

"I thought you were ok."

Lucy made a face.

"So did I. But it just came back."

Jack took a huge bite, and swallowed without chewing hardly at all.

Lucy withdrew the sandwich.

"What are you trying to do, choke yourself?" she demanded.

"I'm eating fast so you don't have to hold it up as long," Jack explained.

Lucy felt the now-familiar swoop of warmth in the pit of her stomach. He was trying to ease her discomfort. She smiled slightly.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but if you're sick, I _definitely _will be."

Nevertheless, Jack finished the sandwich quicker than usual.

"You should really see a doctor, you know," he said as he swallowed the last bite.

"A doctor or The Doctor?" Lucy asked, sitting back down and trying not to look as queasy as she felt.

"A doctor. General, not definitive article. One of those guys who can tell what's wrong with you. You know, with the stethoscopes around their neck and the nasty perchance for big needles? "

Lucy shook her head.

"I don't trust the doctor onboard. He reports everything to Harry."

"Why should that be a problem?" Jack asked.

Lucy examined the deep scratches on the table in front of her. "Harry… he doesn't like it when I'm not available for him. He likes me there when things happen," she explained, keeping her eyes lowered. A scalding draught of shame washed over her at the admission. She already knew that Harry had her at his beck and call, but to say it out loud, to Jack no less, made it seem so much more shameful.

"Lucy. Look at me," Jack said.

Lucy didn't want to look at him, but something in his tone made her glance up.

"The Master's a megalomaniac," Jack said in a gentle voice. "Of course he wants you there to gloat. He treats you like a prize. A trophy that he wants to display. But you still have to go see a doctor, no matter what he thinks. Or else you could be out of it for longer, and he wouldn't like that even more. You understand? I don't want him to hurt you again."

Lucy nodded. He made a point.

"I'll go," she promised.

"Good. Besides, who would feed me if you were sick?"

Lucy smiled slightly, and glanced down at the chess board.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly. She moved her rook to C3 and captured Jack's knight. Holding the captured piece up to him in the palm of her hand, she smiled.

Jack smiled back.

"That's my girl," he said.

--

"Mrs. Saxon! I'm surprised to see you again. I thought our appointment wasn't for another week. Come in. How's your arm feeling?"

Lucy walked into Dr. Sorenson's office a little reluctantly.

"My arm's doing fine. A few twinges when I move it the wrong way."

She sat down on the patient table.

Dr. Sorenson examined her arm carefully.

"Well it looks like everything's healing nicely. But that's not why you're really here, is it?"

"No," Lucy said. "I've been feeling a little… under the weather lately. I was wondering if maybe you could give me something for a stomach bug."

Dr. Sorenson's double chins wobbled as he nodded.

"Why don't a run some tests, Mrs. Saxon?" he asked, pulling out a large needle from a cupboard.

"Is a blood test really necessary?" Lucy asked, inwardly sighing.

"Your husband was most clear. Nothing was to be overlooked in your health and monitoring. Which means I need a blood test just to be sure."

Lucy held out her arm and resolutely looked the other way.

--

Dr. Sorenson was a long time with the blood tests. Lucy lay on the raised bed, and stared at the ceiling. She didn't feel nearly as bad as she had that morning, but Jack seemed to think it was important for her to see a professional. He was probably right. You couldn't be too careful about these things.

Lucy sat up as Dr. Sorenson came into the room, holding the test results. He looked grave. Lucy felt panic well up in side of her. What if there was something really wrong with her? Jack was right: who would take care of him if something happened to her?

"It's just the flu, isn't it?" Lucy babbled. "I knew it. But I thought I should check just in case, and…"

"It's not the flu, Mrs. Saxon," said Dr. Sorenson.

Lucy was getting scared by his serious tone.

"Doctor?" she asked, waiting for him to continue.

"At first I couldn't believe it," Dr. Sorenson said, coming to stand before her as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I did the test twice, just to make sure that the equipment wasn't malfunctioning. But there's really no mistaking the symptoms. You said you were having stomach problems, that you had aches and pains in your legs and abdomen, and that you were lethargic. But the tests confirm it."

"What is it, Doctor?" Lucy asked, feeling very frightened now. "You have to tell me right away. What is it?"

Dr. Sorenson looked straight at her, and then gave her a small half smile.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Saxon. You're pregnant."

_Author's Note: Well it sure took me long enough to write this. I had to move all my stuff into my new apartment in the city, and then start school, and then I had homework, so needless to say writing got pushed to the back burner. But then it came to me on the bus while I was going to school: the perfect way to introduce Lucy's pregnancy. _

_Ok, so what do you think of my revelation? I bet none of you were expecting THAT. Yes, I know she's not pregnant during "The Last of the Time Lords". But I have it all worked out so that this all fits into the canon of the episode. I'm figuring that this is about six months after the Master's coup, so we're half way (give or take) through the story. And yes, for the record, babies can live if they are born at six months. _

_Just (another) quick note on chess. In Medieval times, when a man and a woman were depicted playing chess together, either in paintings or in literature, it was understood that they were secret lovers. Chess was a symbol of the equality of the sexes, and the game of love. So when Jack and Lucy play chess together, it's a symbol of Lucy's growing feelings for him. Random history fact of the day. _


	9. Chapter 8

"_Congratulations, Mrs. Saxon. You're pregnant." _

Lucy blinked, not really comprehending what Dr. Sorenson was saying.

"You… you must be wrong," she said, slowly drawing her scattered thoughts together.

"I told you – I checked twice. There's no doubt about it. Didn't you notice that you were late?" Dr. Sorenson asked.

Lucy searched her memory. So much had been occupying her mind that she hadn't even given a thought lately to what her body had been doing. Or rather, what it hadn't.

"I understand your surprise. But birth control pills aren't 100 effective. You beat the odds."

"How far along am I?" Lucy asked, feeling like one in a trace, or in a dream that she couldn't wake up from.

"Six weeks, maybe. Perhaps a little more."

Lucy thought back six weeks. Before Harry had fractured her arm. Back when she still believed that there was some good in him.

"Six… six weeks. That makes sense." It had been six weeks since he had come to her rooms. "Can you tell whether it's a boy or a girl?"

Dr. Sorenson shook his head.

"It's a little too early for that. But I would be requiring you to come for a check up every week, so we should be finding out soon."

A baby. She was having a baby. A smile formed on Lucy's face, and slowly spread over it like a ray of warm sunshine.

"What…. What should I do?" Lucy asked. It had just occurred to her that she knew practically nothing about pregnancy. Panic rose in her. How was she going to do this?

"Well, you're going to have to watch what you eat. You have to remember that there are two of you that need vitamins now. And you're going to have to get regular exercise and lots of sleep. You need to take care of yourself."

Lucy nodded, mentally noting all the things down.

"And please don't 'trip', any more, if you can help it," Dr. Sorenson said severely. "It would hurt the baby."

Lucy's mouth twisted into an ironic smile. She knew what he was saying: don't give Harry any more reasons to be angry with her. She hopped lightly down from the patient table.

"Dr. Sorenson? I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything to my husband about this," she said sweetly. "I want to tell him myself."

Dr. Sorenson nodded, getting the message. She knew that he was a snitch for Harry, and she didn't want him passing this along. At least not for a while.

"Of course, Mrs. Saxon. It's your prerogative to tell the Prime Minister your news."

"Thanks," Lucy said, walking out of his office. She had a lot to think about.

--

Lucy woke suddenly, and sat straight up in bed, then wished she hadn't. a pounding headache, and a wave of nausea made her fall back onto the pillows. She should _not_ have had that 5th vodka last night. What were they celebrating again? Netball? Or was she just drinking to drown her sorrows again?

Slowly, the fog began to clear from Lucy's brain. She wasn't hung over. She was… she was pregnant. Her eyes shot open, and she glanced down at her belly, as if she expected a bump to have grown there overnight. Nothing showed, of course. Not yet, anyways.

A baby. A baby all her own. A laughing, dimpled creature that would fill the empty hours of her long days. Someone to love and care for, someone who needed her and relied on her and trusted her completely. She smiled at the thought.

But what did she want, a boy or a girl? A boy maybe, to play catch with, and laugh at his antics, and watch him grow tall and strong and good. Or perhaps a girl, to teach sewing and baking, to go shopping with and give advice to when boys came knocking on the door. Lucy smiled at the thought. Yes, a girl. She wouldn't be heartbroken if it was a boy, but she wanted a girl.

"I could call her Eleanor," Lucy said to herself softly. "Eleanor, like Mother. Ellie, for short."

A thousand images of little Ellie flooded her mind. Ellie just born and dressed in a pink sleeper; Ellie taking her first toddling steps; Ellie letting Lucy tie ribbons in her hair and declaring that she didn't like school and boys were mean; a smart girl with braids and freckles; a beautiful young woman in a prom dress; boyfriends and makeup and arguing with Mum but always forgiving in the end.

"That's the life I want for you, Ellie," Lucy said, placing her hand where a bump would appear in a few months' time. "Just you and me and…" _Harry?_

What about Harry? She would have to tell him at some point, and there was no doubt that it was his baby. How would he react to being a father? This would was no place for a baby, and Harry had made it so. Lucy shook her head. She would have to tell him at some point. But not yet. Not yet.

Her precious secret felt like a warm glow inside of her. It was as if she had swallowed a hot drink, and the aftereffects lingered in her chest, warming and nourishing her. The days didn't stretch out endlessly in front of her any more. They would soon be filled with preparation and excitement and anticipation.

Lucy clung to her secret, not wishing to share it with anyone in the world. It was hers, and hers alone. And at least for now, she could keep it.

--

Lucy wandered the upper levels of the Valiant. Abandoned and sun-soaked, the empty rooms and endless corridors were an excellent refuge to come and think. She wandered aimlessly, opening doors and peeking in; waiting for one that looked like it needed more exploring.

She peered down a small side hallway that she hadn't noticed before. It was narrow and rather shabbier than the wide, brightly lit hallways that she usually favoured, but her sense of curiosity was roused.

The office at the end of the hall was small and cluttered. Things were left scattered everywhere, as if the occupant had left in a hurry, and never returned. Which, when Lucy thought about it, was probably exactly what had happened. One wall was lined with books, and the sunshine coming through the window made the dust on them all the more obvious. The other wall had a comfortable sofa against it, worn away in specific places as if someone was very used to flinging themselves onto it in order to ponder some difficult issue of global security.

Lucy walked further into the office. It was small, but cozy. It felt lived in and homey. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time, and certainly not in any of the rooms of her private suite. Not since she had spent the summer at her summer home in the country, the year before she had met Harry.

A drawing pinned up on the opposite wall to the sofa made her smile. It was obviously made by a child of three or four, with crude stick representations of people and messy colouring. It showed a family, of a mother, father, three children, and a dog all standing in front of a red brick house. In large block letters overtop of this tableau was written "I love you Daddy".

Lucy couldn't help smiling. It was so sweet. The man whose office this had once been had been a father, and a proud one at that. Lucy turned her attention to the desk that stood at the far end of the room. The chair was turned to face the large window, as if it had been left in haste and with some energy, so that it had swung backwards of its own will.

She turned the chair and sat in it, surveying the desk. Dust covered the papers and computer screen, the pens and folders that lay scattered over the desk's surface. Several picture frames caught her attention as they reflected the light behind her. The smaller one was a wedding picture, the bride and groom looking deeply into each other's eyes. They seemed to radiate joy and contentment. The thought that somewhere in this world there was happiness like that made Lucy ache to have it as well. She put the wedding picture down quickly.

She picked the larger picture up and studied it carefully. It was a family portrait, of the same man and woman, looking older now. The man had a receding hairline and the woman the laugh lines around her mouth, but they seemed just as happy as in the wedding picture. Behind them stood three smiling teenagers, two tall boys and a pretty girl with long hair. Lucy traced their images with her fingers.

"Where are you all now?" she said softly, breaking the silence of the room. "What happened to you? Are you still all together?"

Her finger stopped on the girl.

"Maybe my Ellie will grow up to be like you. Maybe she'll draw me pictures like you did for your daddy."

Lucy smiled at the thought.

"I wish I had a better world for you, Ellie," she said, placing her hand where her bump would soon be. "I that I could fix everything so that it was the way before. Harry told me this would be for the better, but so far all he's done is make things worse. And I'll have to tell him about you soon. I wonder if he'll be as happy as I am."

An image of Harry beaming at a tiny bundle presented itself to her. But it didn't seem real. It felt like an image she had seen once on television, and was now recalling. Another image rose in her mind, crowding out the first; that of Jack tossing a golden-haired toddler while she giggled uncontrollably. Jack caught the child easily, and laughed with her as he spun her around in a circle. Then, they both turned to look at her, their faces with identical expressions of mischief on them.

Lucy sighed deeply, and leaned back in the office chair.

"Oh, Jack," she whispered. "I wish she was yours."

--

"Won't you come into my office, Darling?" Harry said, gripping her arm tightly and directing her there without her answer.

"Of… of course, Harry. Whatever you say," Lucy said, a little surprised.

Harry's office was large, and ridiculously sumptuous. A huge leather chair sat behind a huge oak desk, and the walls were made of windows on three sides. Even the ceiling was made of glass, so that it showed the cloudless blue above. The furniture, several chairs and sofas, were Harry's favorite- a spotless white. The one wall that was not reflecting the deep blue sky and afternoon sunshine was covered in books in many different languages. It was so different from the cozy, slightly shabby office that she had been sitting and thinking in only a few days ago. That one had looked lived in; Harry's just looked showy.

Lucy willed herself not to look nervous. Harry almost never called her into his inner sanctum after their conquest of Earth, and it worried her that he was doing so now.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" she asked, walking into the room, her heals tapping on the wood floor.

Harry circled her like a tiger.

"There's something different about you," he said, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"Different?" Lucy asked carefully. Surely he hadn't guessed her secret, which she had kept so close to herself.

Harry drew a deep breath, and poked his tongue out, tasting the air like a snake.

"Ah yes. Why didn't I detect it before?"

Lucy backed up a step. There was something about his manner that set her on edge.

"Harry? What are you talking about?" she asked. She knew she wasn't showing yet, so there was no possible way he could know about the baby.

"Don't lie to me, Darling. It hurts my feelings, you know," he drew in another deep breath. "Ah, yes. I can smell your elevated hormones from here. I can taste the change in your body chemistry. Keeping secrets from me, are you?"

He knew. Somehow, through his superior senses, he knew. Sometimes, Lucy forgot that he wasn't human, and that there were some things he could just sense. The realization of her mistake came too late.

There was no use lying.

"I was going to tell you, but I couldn't figure out how," she said reluctantly.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice, Darling? It hurts me that you don't know me as well as I know you," Harry said, stepping towards her and taking her hand.

"I was going to tell you," Lucy repeated. "But I guess you've done it for me now."

Harry's eyes glittered coldly, his smile serpentine.

"How long have you kept this from me?"

"Not long. Only a few days. Think of it, Harry. In a few months, you're going to be a father."

Harry _tsked_ softly.

"You haven't been being careful. Didn't I warn you that you had to take your contraceptive pills?"

"Yes, but…" Lucy faltered. "Sometimes these things just happen. Don't you want to be a father?"

"Do you have any idea the responsibility a child is? The trouble?" Harry asked. "I'm trying to rule the world here, Darling."

"But a baby!" Lucy protested. "A bouncing, laughing, lovable baby. _Your_ baby. Isn't that worth the trouble?"

Harry looked thoughtful.

"At some point, yes. I had always planned to breed a new kind of human. A human/Time Lord cross. A human with superior faculties that would help build a new Gallifrey that the rest of the universe would fear and respect. Which is why I made sure you were beautiful as well as rich. Pretty hard luck on me breeding with someone ugly, isn't it? But not yet. Not now. It's not the right time for a baby."

Lucy shook her head. She hadn't understood much of his speech, but she understood the last part quite clearly.

"But Harry," she said. "You're talking about it as if it's possible to put it off. You can't stall a pregnancy. It's _going_ to happen in eight months."

"Put off?" Harry said. "No, Dearest. Of course not."

Lucy relaxed a little. At least he was acknowledging that the baby was coming.

"Put off?" Harry continued. "No. Stop? Yes."

Lucy backed up a step. The strange glittering of his eyes frightened her.

"What do you mean?" she asked slowly.

Harry advanced, pulling out a long, slender object from his pocket.

"Harry? What are you doing?" Lucy asked, recognizing the laser screwdriver.

"I'm sorry I have to do this," Harry said, looking anything but sorry." But you leave me little choice. You should have been more careful."

He pointed the laser screwdriver at her abdomen.

Lucy's eyes grew large, and her hands shot out to protect herself.

There was no mercy in his eyes as he pushed the button and fired the screwdriver.

A sharp pain shot through Lucy, and it did not subside but got stronger with every passing second. She felt a trickle on her leg, and looked down. A patch on her blue skirt was wet and dark, and spreading rapidly.

And she realized what he had done.

"_No!_" she screamed. "No! Harry! No!"

The pain was overwhelming. Lucy sank to the floor. It hurt so much that she couldn't focus. Everything was blurry except one clear concept: her baby was dying. She struggled a few feet to the white plush chair, trying to use it to get up. If she could get herself to Dr. Sorenson, maybe he could save the baby. But the pain was too much. Her arms failed her, and she collapsed half on the chair and half on the floor.

Harry stood over her, shaking his head rather regretfully.

"Next time, try to be more careful, dearest. We don't want a repeat of this unpleasant experience, do we?"

Hate overwhelmed Lucy, but was drowned out in pain. There was nothing but pain.

Harry shook his head, and gave her one last disgusted look before leaving the room.

Her blood was pooling on the floor. It smeared over the chair where she had tried to hoist herself up, staining the pristine white. It ran down her legs and soaked her once tidy skirt.

Tears streaked down Lucy's cheeks. She sobbed for her pain, but mostly for her baby. Her little Ellie that now would never be.

"My baby. My baby," she whispered over and over, not having the strength to say more. She couldn't even shout for help. The pain was so intense now that she could hardly breathe. Her vision blurred and she lost all sense of time.

The darkness that came was a welcome relief.

_Author's Note: Yeah, I'm sorry. This chapter is really, rally dark. I'll be honest, I made myself cry while I was writing it. I would have cut this part of the story out, except that it's important to the central plot. I hated to do it, but it had to be done. Poor Lucy!_

_Thank you so much to Maestrodamus, who not only didn't laugh when he found out I write fanfiction, but got an account so that he could read my stories and leave reviews. Seriously, you're the best. _


	10. Chapter 9

"If I have to go one more day wearing this ugly skirt, I'm going to scream."

"Mum, you don't really have a choice."

"I know. That's why I hate it."

The voices were faint. They were out in the hallway, Lucy guessed. They sounded familiar, but Lucy was too tired to try to recognize them. She was floating alone in deep water. It was dark and cold, and Lucy could feel the tongues of icy water licking at her sides. But no, it wasn't water. It was molasses. Sluggish, sticky molasses that she was struggling through towards the voices.

"Well there's really no point in hating it then is there?" a voice said, opening the door to the office.

Tish. The voice belonged to Tish. What was Tish doing in an ocean of molasses? Come to think of it, what was _Lucy_ doing in a sea of molasses? Molasses was something cowboys put on bread in the Old West movies she used to watch with Jerome, the butler. People didn't swim in it. But then why was she wet and cold?

The footsteps got closer.

"All I'm saying is, I can't stand much more of this," the other voice said. Lucy's mind struggled to comprehend who it was. Francine, Tish's mother. No one else's voice had that cold, flinty quality.

"Again, not much of a choice," Tish replied. She was moving around the room, picking things up and dusting. Lucy heard the swish of the dusting rug as she wiped off shelves and books. The footsteps were getting closer.

"Tish, I think there's a sack been left here," said Francine, in disgust.

"Where?" Tish asked.

"There. Half slumped on the chair. Honestly, he may be the Master, but he's a total slob. Who taught him to pick up after himself?"

"No, I don't think it _is_ a sack. It's hard to tell in this gloom. Why don't we turn the lights on, just this once?"

"You know he doesn't like that," Francine remarked.

The footsteps were now very close.

"I think it's a person!" Tish gasped. She gently shook Lucy's shoulder. "Are you ok? Hello?"

"Probably dead," Francine remarked bitterly. "I wouldn't be surprised."

Dead. Was that was Lucy was? No, you didn't have pain if you were dead. And it was beginning to hurt again. A dull ache was building up in Lucy's middle. It was a struggle to rise to the surface of the sluggish molasses of Lucy's mind.

"Help," Lucy croaked. That single word took most of her energy.

"Lucy?" Tish gasped, sounding frightened.

"Lucy? Lucy Saxon? His wife?" Francine asked, her voice hard. "Don't touch her."

"But Mum she's covered in something. Turn the light on."

"We should just leave," Francine said. "Just leave her there. She's probably drunk."

"She might be hurt," Tish argued.

"She's the enemy," Francine hissed. "Or have you forgotten what she did to us? To Martha? To the rest of the world?"

"Not her, the Master. He beats her around, Mum. I've seen it. She's just as much a prisoner as we are. He hurts her just like he hurts us. Now turn on the light, or I will."

Francine grumbled under her breath, but she walked over to the lamp and turned it on.

Light flooded Lucy's closed eyes. She hunched closer to the chair in an effort to protect herself from the cruel light which pierced her closed lids.

Tish gasped.

"She's covered in blood!"

Blood? Lucy's addled mind struggled to comprehend it. Why was she covered in blood? And then it came back to her. The fog of her mind lifted, and what it exposed was so dark, so awful that Lucy wished it would come back. She remembered what Harry had done – to her, and to her baby, her Ellie. A sob caught in her throat.

Tish shook her gently.

"Open your eyes, Lucy. Tell me what happened. How did you get like this?"

Lucy shook her head. She couldn't open her eyes. Perhaps if they stayed closed she would go back to sleep, and then wake up from this nightmare. To open her eyes was to acknowledge that this anguish-soaked world was the real one.

In the end, it was the pain that made her open her eyes. It had been building up slowly from a dull ache and now was progressing to sharp pains.

"What happened?" Tish asked, bending over her.

Lucy looked into Tish's eyes, for once not hostile or suspicious.

"My baby," she whispered. "My baby's dead."

"She's had a miscarriage," Francine said, somewhere behind Tish. "I recognize it. Had two between Martha and you. Never this bad though."

It took so much effort just to stay awake, to stay conscious. Lucy gathered whatever strength she had left in her.

"Help me," she managed to choke out.

"Why should we?" Francine asked, turning away. "We should just leave you here. You're the one who's doing all this. Or if not you, you're going along with it."

The pain was becoming overwhelming once more. Lucy knew that if she lost herself in that cold, dark sea again, she would not come back, but she could feel herself slipping away from shore.

"Come on," Tish said, slowly prying Lucy away from the chair.

"What are you doing?" Francine demanded.

"I can't leave her here, Mum. She'll die and you know it."

"Then let her die," Francine snapped.

Tish shook her head.

"I can't. Come on, Lucy. Up you get." She lifted Lucy to her feet.

Lucy didn't have any strength to stand. She leaned entirely on Tish, who wobbled under the unexpected weight.

Francine's arm came around Lucy's shoulder.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you," she said. "This just means Tish is right: we can't let you die here and have you on our consciences."

"Dr. Sorenson will know what to do," Tish said.

Lucy leaned on the two woman as they helped her out of Harry's office. She shot one last glance back at the chair where she had been slumped. Its pristine whiteness had been stained heavily with bright red blood. It would never again go back to being pure white. And somehow, Lucy was glad of it.

--

Lucy stared at the wall. She felt empty, as if she had been a glass of water that someone had poured out. There seemed to be no use in doing anything. There wasn't even any use in getting out of bed. The door to her bedroom opened, but she didn't bother turning around.

"I brought you something to eat," Tish said.

"Go away," Lucy replied, not moving.

"You've got to eat something," Tish argued.

Lucy didn't respond. The last three trays that Tish had brought had been ignored, just like this one would be. Lucy wasn't hungry. She didn't think she'd ever be hungry again.

Tish sighed, and put the new tray next to the old one.

"There's no good in you starving yourself, you know," she said.

"What's the point in eating?" Lucy replied. "Besides, I'm not hungry."

"I know you don't feel like it, but you've got to eat."

Tish sat down on the edge of Lucy's bed, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I can't imagine what you're going through, but…"

Lucy jerked around.

"No, you can't!" she snapped. "My baby's dead. My baby's dead, and I have nothing to live for, nothing to hope for. All I had was Ellie and even she's been taken away from me. I don't have any reason to keep going!"

Tears spilled down Lucy's face, and she began to shake from the force of her sobs. Tish put a comforting arm around her shoulders, and let her cry.

"You have to get up and eat something, Lucy," she said gently. "Jack's been frantic about you."

Lucy looked up at the mention of Jack.

"He knows?"

Tish nodded.

"He was asking after you every five minutes. Wanted to know why you hadn't come to see him in a few days. So I had to tell him. He's been so scared for you. I could see it in his eyes. He said I had to get you to go to him, so he could see for himself that you were all right. Will you go see him?"

Jack had been worried about her. Jack wanted to her to come. Somehow, that made want to get out of bed. It was first stirrings she had felt in three days, the first desire to do _anything_ beyond lie in the bed and pray that sleep would carry away her troubles for a few more hours.

Jack wanted her there with him. Jack was thinking about her.

It felt good to once again have a motivation for waking up. There was something to live for, even if it was only to see Jack one more time.

Without really thinking about what she was doing, she ate the toast that Tish had forced into her hands.

Jack. She would hold on for Jack.

--

"Lucy! Thank God you're here!" Jack said, the moment she walked into the room. "I've been so worried about you."

"I'm sorry I didn't come," Lucy said.

Jack gave her a reassuring smile.

"Tish told me what happened. Are you alright?"

Lucy gave a watery chuckle.

"Do I seem alright?" she asked.

"No," Jack's face was stormy.

"Well, I'm not," Lucy said honestly.

"I wish I could hold you. Come here."

Obediently, Lucy slipped into Jack's embrace, wrapping her arms around him. Jack laid his head against her hair and sighed.

"I'm so, so sorry, Lucy. I wish you'd told me that you were pregnant, though."

Lucy shook her head.

"I couldn't, Jack. I was… I was too ashamed."

"Ashamed?"

"That the father of my baby was a monster, and that I had been too blind to see it."

"You couldn't help that," Jack argued. "This isn't our fault, Lucy. I just wish I had known."

He was tying to keep the hurt out of his voice, and not succeeding very well.

"I only just found out," Lucy said, pulling away from him so that she could see his face. "I didn't even have time to tell Harry before… before he found out."

"Found out?" Jack said. "He knows?"

Lucy nodded.

"He knows. Knew. He knew."

"And he isn't trying to comfort you? From what Tish tells me, they found you in his office. I mean, it's his child. Doesn't he care?"

"He said it wasn't the right time," Lucy said, looking anywhere but Jack's face.

There was a long pause.

"He did this to you, didn't he?" Jack asked. His voice was quiet, controlled, but Lucy could hear the fury behind it. "Tell me what happened," he commanded.

Lucy's voice shook as she began to tell him.

"He said it wasn't the right time. He said that I hadn't been careful. He pointed the laser screwdriver at me, and…" she couldn't continue.

"He killed the baby, didn't he?" Jack asked.

Lucy nodded, looking down at her feet. It felt so horrible and so shameful to admit it out loud.

With a cry of pure rage, Jack strained against the chains that bound him to the wall. Lucy thought that surely they would give way to his raw anger and grief, but they held firm.

"I'm going to _kill him_!!" Jack yelled. "For killing your baby! For nearly killing you! I'm going to kill him!"

"Jack, please stop," pleaded Lucy. "You're going to dislocate your arms! Please, Jack, you're scaring me."

Jack subsided, looking warn out with his effort.

"I'm so, so sorry," he said, sagging against the chains.

"There was nothing you could do," Lucy said with a sigh.

"I know. That's why I'm sorry."

Lucy sunk down at the base of one of the pillars that Jack's arm was chained to. She drew her arms around her knees, and leaned her head on them.

"How do you go on, Jack?" she asked. "How do you go on when it seems like there's nothing left to live for?"

"There's always something to live for," Jack said gently.

Lucy shook her head.

"I wanted that baby so much. And now… there's nothing. I want to die, Jack."

"Lucy, look at me. Please," Jack's voice was gentle, but there was a commanding presence to it. Lucy looked up. "You don't want to die."

"Don't tell me what I want or don't want!" Lucy snapped. "I'm sick of people telling me what to do!"

"You don't want to die," Jack said firmly. "I know that already. I've died before, and I can tell you that it's not a release from anything. There's nothing there on the other side. Just… nothing. You don't want to go there."

"There's nothing for me here, either," Lucy replied. "Besides, it's different for you. You come back every time. You never fully die."

"But I know what it feels like. Blankness; nothing; no hope."

"What hope is there in life?" Lucy asked, staring down at the cement floor.

"Where there's life, there's always hope," replied Jack firmly. "If you're still alive, there's the hope of getting free of the Master. If you let yourself die, he's won."

Lucy felt the anger and despair swell within her.

"I _hate _him," she said with venom.

"Me too," answered Jack. "The Doctor would say to give him another chance, but…" Jack's laugh was bitter and without humour. "But I'm not the Doctor."

"I never used to hate him, even when he was harsh and cruel," Lucy said, almost to herself. "I was drawn to his power, his dynamic personality. Everyone was. It was like he had some hypnotic power over me, to make me do even things I didn't want to do."

Jack nodded grimly.

"But now," Lucy continued. "Now I see through all that. I see what he really is. After what he's done to me – to you – I can't help but hate him."

"It's ok, Lucy. You just can't let that hate consume you. You can't give in to despair."

"Why not?" Lucy asked, resting her cheek on her knees in a gesture of surrender. "Why can't I give into despair? I went to the end of the universe, Jack. To the end of time and space itself. And there was _nothing_. There was nothing there in the end. Why bother continuing now when it all comes to that in the end?"

Jack was silent for a long moment.

"I was there too," he said quietly. "I was there at the end of the universe. And you know what I saw? Hope. I saw the human race, at the end of everything, still clinging on against all odds, still surviving and living in the hope of Utopia."

"There was no Utopia," Lucy whispered. "Not for them, not for us."

"But that never stopped them from hoping, did it? If they could hold on at the end of the universe, when everything was dying, then so can we."

Lucy looked up into Jack's soot-streaked face; into his bright blue eyes sparkling in the gloom.

"Do you promise me you'll hold on, Lucy?" he asked.

"Hold on to what?" Lucy asked.

"To the hope that we can get out of here. To the hope that Martha Jones will be just as fantastic as the Doctor's other companions. To the hope that beyond the Master and beyond the destruction, somehow there is life."

--

Lucy still in her bed, in almost exactly the same position she had been in a few days ago when Tish had gone to talk to her. This time, however, it wasn't despair and anguish that she was thinking about. Quite the opposite, actually. She was thinking about Jack's words.

Was he right? Was there always hope? He was right about one thing, though. Martha was still out there. And as long as Martha was still out there, there was still a chance that she would find a way to defeat Harry.

The fierce ache in Lucy's heart didn't go away, but it lessened somewhat. The wound left by Ellie's death might never heal fully, but Jack's words had helped a little.

Lucy sat up in the bed with a sigh. What did having hope look like, anyways? She didn't think she'd ever had hope before in her entire life. Or if she had, it was so far remote in her childhood that she didn't recognize it.

Before her mind's eye floated an image of Jack- exhausted, soot-streaked, a cut bleeding sluggishly above his eyebrow. And yet, he was grinning. Jack was right: there was only nothing when she gave up. Hope, Lucy realized, looked like Jack – chained up and still finding something to smile about. If Jack could have such hope while chained to a wall in the engine room, she could too.

Something caught Lucy's eye, making her turn. It was the glass chess queen, gleaming dully in the lamp light from its position on her beside table. Lucy picked it up, and turned it over in her hands.

"No," she said suddenly. "I never want to be a pawn again."

With all the strength she possessed, Lucy hurled the chess queen at the wall. For a moment, it seemed suspended, hanging in the air. Then, it made contact with the wall. There was the tinkling of broken glass, and the queen smashed into a thousand glittering pieces.

_Author's Note: I was going to post this chapter yesterday, and then my friend got a kitten. Needless to say, I was very distracted. Freya the Asguard kitten is pretty much the cutest little ball of gray fluff in the whole universe. I was so busy playing with her that I didn't post my chapter. So, blame it on Freya that this chapter is late. _

_I've been saving the 'hope' conversation almost since I first started writing this story. It was one of the first conversations that I imagined, and finding a place for it has been hard. Needless to say, I'm glad it fit in so well here. _

_I know I made Francine a little harsh, but I think that's her character. She's not a forgiving person, and after what Lucy has done (or perceived to have done), she's not going to be very kind, is she? But she came through in the end. _


	11. Chapter 10

It was Jack who told her first. He didn't know that he was telling her, but she could see it in his eyes. You couldn't spend so long with a person and not learn to read what their eyes were saying.

Tish had just brought Jack some food. Harry seemed to have given up on trying to kill Jack by starving him. Either that or he was just bored with the idea. It hadn't worked anyway, not least because Lucy had been smuggling him food for a long time now. Harry hadn't said that they could begin officially feeding Jack, but then he hadn't stopped the kitchen people from sending food.

Lucy took the bowl of steaming oatmeal from Tish.

"I'll do it," she volunteered.

Tish gave her a slight smile.

"Thanks. I have to go somewhere anyways." She shot a glance at Jack. Jack's face was impassive, but his eyes acknowledged Tish's reference.

"What was that all about?" Lucy asked, offering a heaping spoonful of oatmeal to Jack.

"What was what about?" Jack asked, taking the spoonful. But his eyes dated to Tish, who was talking quietly with her father in a corner.

"Tish was acting very odd. Where does she have to go?"

Jack shrugged.

"How should I know?"

But his eyes said: "I wish I could tell you."

"Nothing," Lucy said, offering another spoonful.

"She's probably worried about Martha. They came really close to catching her again in Istanbul," Jack said.

"I heard," Lucy murmured.

Tish waved to Jack as she and Clive left the cavernous engine room.

"Bye, Tish," Jack said.

"Follow her, if you really want to know," said his eyes.

Lucy scraped the bottom of the bowl for one last spoonful of oatmeal. Jack ate it with relish.

"I should go too," Lucy said. "I don't want to be missed."

"Bye, Lucy. I'm counting the minutes till you come back," said Jack.

"Be careful," said his eyes.

------

The floors were all metal grating in this part of the ship. Lucy slipped off her shoes so that she could move silently as she followed the Jones' down the twisting corridors. She listened intently to their footsteps , and kept well behind them so that she wasn't seen. The halls were deserted, so it wasn't hard to follow the double set of footsteps hurrying along. The steps stopped abruptly. Lucy waited behind a bend in the corridor. There was a whispered conversation, with words that Lucy couldn't hear. She peeked around the corner just in time to see Tish and Clive disappear behind a door at the far end of the hall.

As quietly as she could, Lucy crept up to the door. Placing her ear to the cold metal frame, she could just make out the conversation within.

"What does Jack say?" a gruff voice asked.

"Jack says that he's very close, and ready to play his part when the signal comes," Tish's voice said.

"Good. Now we all know the signal. When it comes, we all have to be in place. If we manage it, we might have a chance to stop the Master," said the gruff voice.

"If we have a chance," Francine's voice said.

"Frannie, you can't talk like that. We have told on to hope," Clive's voice said. "It's all we have left."

"Besides, we can't just sit around and do nothing, no matter what the risk," said a woman's voice.

"Agreed," said a younger woman's voice, with just a hint of a Welsh accent. "But we can't wait much longer if we want to overthrow the Master."

Lucy moved her ear away from the door, her head spinning. A rebellion. They were planning a rebellion. They were going to rise up against Harry, and they were going to fail. Nobody knew that better than she did. She shook her head in disbelief. How in the world did they think that they could overthrow _Harry_? He was the unquestioned ruler of the entire planet and they thought they could beat him?

Hatred for Harry welled up inside her. She hoped that they could. A sudden thought left her breathless: what if she helped them? She had enough hate for Harry, and enough clout to be able to pull it off. It wasn't as if Harry even suspected she had a brain, never mind could join a conspiracy against him. To him she was just a beautiful plaything. To be picked up when he felt like it, and ignored when there were more important things at hand.

Yes, she wanted to help. She wanted to be the white queen, not the black one.

With shaking hands, she turned the door knob, and opened the door.

There were maybe ten or fifteen people in the room. Some were staring at her in shock, while some had leaped to their feet.

A young, handsome man that Lucy recognized as an engineer, named Peter, held up a gun, pointed steadily at her.

"What are you going to do, shoot me?" Lucy asked.

"I'm thinking about it," Peter growled.

"Put it down, you idiot," said the man with the gruff voice, who Lucy now recognized as Luke, the pilot of the ship.

"That's Lucy Saxon. Don't you think they're going to miss her, if she's dead?" asked Nina, the head cook.

Lucy held up her hand.

"It would be loud. And messy. I suggest you not shoot me, even if I _do_ know about your little conspiracy group."

Luke fixed Lucy with a steady gaze.

"What are you going to do with that knowledge?" he asked.

"Are you going to tell the Master?" asked a girl with huge brown eyes that Lucy didn't recognize.

"No," Lucy said slowly. "I think I'm going to help you."

Francine sputtered.

"_You? _You help us? You're his _wife_. We can't trust you!"

"Yes," Lucy said. "I am his wife. Which means I'm above suspicion. The perfect insider."

"Francine's right," said Nina. "We can't trust her. Why should she want to help us?"

"I'll tell you why," Lucy said. "I've been walking around with my eyes closed for so long. But no longer. I see Harry for what he is now – a monster. I didn't want to believe it before. It was easier not to believe it. Harry, he…" and here her voice failed her. She hadn't told anyone but Jack about what Harry had done to her, and even then he had guessed. But she knew they wouldn't trust her unless she told them. "Harry… the Master… he killed my baby."

"Your baby?" Peter's voice was filled with contempt.

"Last month I had a miscarriage," Lucy said.

A girl who worked at the medical bay nodded.

"You were sick for weeks."

"It wasn't an accident. Harry killed the baby. He said that it wasn't the right time, and he… killed her. You don't forget something like that. Or forgive." Lucy's hands balled up into fists.

There was a moment of silence while they considered her words.

"I'll vouch for her," Tish said, breaking the quiet.

"No!" said Francine sharply.

"Mum, you were there. You saw what she was like. His own wife, and he did that to her. _On purpose_. I say she's in earnest."

"How do you know you're not going to betray us?" Clive asked.

Lucy reached into her pocket, and pulled out her mobile.

"I have the head of security on speed dial. If I'd have wanted to betray you, I would have called him before I opened the door, and he would be here by now. I can help you, but you're going to have to trust me." Lucy sighed. "I've seen what Harry's ideas of 'peace' are, and I want no part of them."

Luke scrutinized Lucy.

"I say we put it to a vote," he said. "Hands up those who think we shouldn't trust her."

No surprisingly, Francine raised her hand. As did three others.

"Hands up those who think we can."

Ten people raised their hands.

"I vote we trust you as well – for now," Luke said.

Lucy smiled, and allowed herself to breathe for the first time since she had opened the door.

Francine made as if to protest, but Luke gave her a hard look, and she sat back down.

"You'll have to prove your trust to us. Tomorrow there's a shipment of penicillin coming in. It's desperately needed down on the surface, but it's almost impossible to get. If you help us smuggle it out, we'll consider letting you help us with other things."

Lucy nodded.

"How are you getting it out?" she asked, bravely stifling her panic as much as she could. She had been right. This _was_ a terrible idea.

"That's just the thing," said the girl from the medical bay. "I know where it is, but the cabinet is always locked. Only Dr. Sorenson has the key, and he keeps it around his neck."

Lucy thought for a moment, her brain whirring at twice the normal speed.

"I go for my regular weekly checkup tomorrow. He takes a blood sample every time, and unlocks that drawer to get things out. Then the leaves to process the sample, and leaves the cabinet open."

A gleam came into Luke's eyes, and a small smile curved on his lips.

"And if you, say, had enough time to take that medicine out and take it outside the office…" he trailed off.

Lucy gulped. This was a bad idea. But she spoke anyways.

"If someone was there to get it from me…"

"No," Tish interrupted. "Not someone. That would be too suspicious. But if there was, say, a cleaning cart there, that was to be picked up later…"

"I could slip it into the cart," Lucy finished.

Nina sized her up.

"You're not half bad at this. Maybe you'll be trustworthy yet."

A smile curved Lucy's lips.

"I told you. If I wanted to betray you, I would have already called the head of security already."

"Much good that would have done you," said Peter with a wolf's grin. "Andy McIntyre's been in our side from the beginning."

-----

"Mrs. Saxon. It's good to see you again," Dr. Sorenson said in his usual deep base.

Lucy winced at the title. She didn't like to be reminded who she was married to these days.

"How are you?" he asked, misinterpreting her grimace. " No side effects of your miscarriage, I hope."

Besides despair and hopelessness? No, no side effects, Lucy thought wryly.

"Just here for my regular check up," she said with a contrived smile.

Dr. Sorenson nodded.

"Well, hop on the table."

Lucy sat on the paper-covered table. It was too high for her to sit comfortably, and her legs swung in empty air, as if she were a toddler. She tucked them one under the other, and tried not to let them swing.

"We'll just start with the usual examination, shall we?" Dr. Sorenson said. He took out a stethoscope and put it to his ear. "Breathe deeply."

Lucy did as she was told, while Dr. Sorenson listened to her heartbeat. He checked her over, and made a few notes.

"Any dizziness? Nausea? Faintness?" he asked.

Lucy shook her head.

"No, none of those things," she said.

"Ok, well then I'll just take a blood sample," he said, reaching for the key that hung around his neck. He used it to unlock a bottom shelf, from which he withdrew a syringe. He left it unlocked.

Lucy had to look away as he slid the needle into her arm. She squeezed her eyes closed tightly, feeling even more like a child. She hated having her blood taken, and yet he insisted on doing it every time.

"I'll be right back," he said, capping the needle.

Lucy opened her eyes in time to see him go through the entrance to another room, and close the heavy wood door behind him. Her heart began to beat uncomfortably loud. It was now or never. She didn't know how long it would take him to process her blood sample, but she knew that she didn't have much time.

Slipping off the examination table, and out of her noisy high heeled shoes, Lucy hurried over to the small, unlocked cabinet.

"Small, brown bottles in a long, flat box," she muttered to herself, remembering the nurse's words.

Her frantic eyes scanned the shelf, every second that passed making her more anxious. Then there it was, right in front of her. A brown box maybe 30 cm by 15 cm, and 5 cm high. Shoving the lid off a little, Lucy checked inside – small, brown bottles. This was it. Being careful not to touch anything else in the cabinet, she grabbed the box. With a cloth handkerchief, she wiped down everything she had touched, from the handle of the cabinet door to the floor where she was crouching.

Then, she hurried to the door, and peeked out of the room. The hallway was empty. Just as she had been told, there was a maid's cleaning cart near the door, standing unobtrusively. Lucy quickly shoved the box of morphine bottles in among the linens, being careful that it was well concealed.

She had just enough time to slide back onto the table before Dr. Sorenson once more opened the door to the lab, and bustled out.

"Well, Mrs. Saxon, it looks like you're doing just fine. Your hormone levels are even dropping down to normal."

"A… are they?" Lucy stuttered. She wished she had had a minute to compose herself before he came in. Her nerves were raw, and she was fighting to keep her breathing under control. She hoped Dr. Sorenson wouldn't notice. He did.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Saxon?" he asked.

"Sorry, I… I get a little shaky around needles. You know that," Lucy said, trying to make her voice as shaky and regretful as she could.

Dr. Sorenson bought it. He smiled.

"I would think you would be over that by now."

Lucy shook her head.

"No, never."

"As I was saying, your hormones are going back down."

"Is that usual?" she asked.

He nodded.

"After a miscarriage, your body is still preparing to give birth, but there's no baby any more. It takes a while for your body to adjust. But you're doing just fine."

Lucy nodded, and smiled.

"Thank you, doctor," she said, hopping down from the table. Her shoes made their usual clacking on the tile floor.

"Until next week then, Mrs. Saxon," he said genially.

Lucy was as calm as she could be leaving his office and walking down the hall. But when she was around the corner, she gave in to her fear, and ran.

------

Lucy lay on her bed and tried to take deep and calming breaths. But it wasn't working. Her breath still came in gasps that had nothing to do with her wild sprint to her suite. She had done it. She had taken the medicine and successfully gotten it out of the doctor's office. Tears of relief that it was over, for now, rolled down her cheeks, and she recognized the first stages of hysteria.

"I've got to calm down," she panted, fighting the rising panic. Taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth seemed to help. She lay flat on the bed, and squeezed her eyes shut. She needed something to help her block out the memory of what she had done, and the panic that went along with it. If she had been caught…! But she hadn't been. Everything was fine, and it would continue to be fine as long as she kept her cool.

In her mind, Lucy began the exercise that often calmed her down and helped her focus. She imagined the house and she and Jack had talked about. The wrap-around porch, the ivy-covered brick, the white picket fence, the bed of flowers, the huge tree in the back yard with the tree house built onto it. She pictured the furniture, the rooms, and layout of everything, right down to Ellie's pink-and-butterfly covered bedroom with a draping princess curtain over the bed and a teddy lying forgotten on the floor. She could visualize everything so perfectly, so clearly.

Her concentration was so deep and steady that she didn't even notice the point at which she fell asleep.

That night, she dreamed about Ellie.

_Author's Note: I have been stuck on this chapter for a LONG time, I know. Conspiracy theories aren't really my forte, so I wasn't sure how to write one. I suppose I should credit "Trickster's Choice" and "Trickster's Queen" for help with that scene. Raka conspiracy, Valiant staff conspiracy… same thing. _

_From now on I'll have to be taking careful notes from "Last of the Time Lords" to make sure I get everything right. This is my last hands-free chapter, LOL. I'm excited to write the next couple of chapters, even if they require extra research. I like Lucy in that red dress. In my symbolism- addled mind, I feel like it means something. _

_Oh yeah, and I'm blaming Freya – again – for this being late. Dumb cute cat and her distracting ways. _


	12. Chapter 11

"Seems to me," said Luke. "That the only weapon that can bring the Master down is his laser screwdriver."

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably. Even though the point of their little evil conspiracy and needlepoint group was to eventually overthrow Harry, it made them all nervous to speak of it in such plain terms.

Everyone but Lucy. She met Luke's eyes, and gave him a little nod. She was not squeamish at all at the possibility of killing Harry. That was practically the whole point of joining this group.

Since the first heist she had helped them pull off, Lucy had become a regular member of the conspiracy. She was mostly there for little things, such as gathering information and small covert operations. They had all agreed that it was best Lucy stay above suspicion, the better to gather information. Although of course Peter had complained and Francine had demanded that Lucy do her _own_ dirty work. A look from Luke had silenced them both.

So now she was more of a spy than anything. Because of her proximity to Harry, and her value as a source, they had let her in on everything that was going on. She didn't plan on betraying them.

"Why the screwdriver?" Francine asked, her voice caustic, as usual. "He's not immune to a bullet."

"True," said Luke. "But how would we get a gun near him? The weapons detectors in the main room can practically detect murderous thoughts."

"I very much doubt _that_," Francine muttered.

Luke sent her an annoyed glare that quieted her.

"It would be a suicide mission for anyone to bring a gun in there."

"I'd do it," Peter said. His voice was hard.

"No need to sacrifice yourself needlessly," Martin said sharply. "We've no need of stupid heroics that get people killed." The grizzled war veteran gave the hot-headed Peter an angry look.

Peter scowled.

"I still say shooting him would be the best option," he shot back.

"Were you even listening? Or were you too busy imagining yourself a martyr to think straight?" asked Kate, a mechanic that worked on the lower decks. She tossed her pretty chestnut hair off her shoulder. To Lucy's surprise, Peter blushed, and didn't say anything further.

"Laser screwdriver it is," Martin affirmed, when nobody else objected.

The others nodded their heads in agreement.

"But how would we get it?" Nena asked, brushing an errant puff of flour off of her trousers. "That's the real problem. It's not like he leaves it lying around."

A sudden idea hit Lucy, and she was struck breathless by the simplicity of it.

"Me," she said.

Everyone turned to look at her. She was usually quiet in the meetings when she wasn't passing on information that she had gleaned.

"What?" Tish asked.

"Me. I can get the screwdriver into his jacket pocket that morning, so it'll be easy to get out. I have access to his clothes."

"But what about access to the screwdriver?" Clive asked. "It's not going to be easy to find."

"He doesn't use it any more," Lucy said, thinking as she spoke. "He just leaves it on the table in the room, usually. He won't even notice it's not there."

There was silence for a moment.

"That's not a half bad plan," said Kate.

"Not half bad at all," said Ben, a cheerful pilot who had only recently joined their group.

"What then?" Clive asked.

"He's bound to leave his jacket lying around when he's in the Throne Room," said Tish. "He's such a slob. Then it would just be a case of getting it out."

"We could do it," Francine said. "We're always there anyways. He likes us there – to gloat."

"You're forgetting one important detail," Peter interrupted. "None of us know how that thing works."

"Ah, but the Doctor does," Ben said, his easy grin spreading across his face. "All we would need to do is get the screwdriver to the Doctor, and he could fire it."

"In the meantime, I would mobilize everybody, ready to take over once the Master was dead. Lucy?"

Lucy looked up, a little startled at the use of her name. She hadn't expected to be called on.

"Yes?" her voice came out as a squeak.

"If you can get the screwdriver in his pocket, you give Francine the signal. Francine, you pass it on to the Doctor, then to Tish. Tish, you give it to Clive, who'll pass it on to me. Then give it to Jack. Jack'll break free of his chains and join us."

"Did you just say 'Jack will break free'?" Kate asked.

Luke nodded.

"That's right."

"I hate to put a damper on these things, but he's chained to the wall," Kate said, frowning.

Luke gave her a smug smile.

"Don't you worry about that. Just do your part and let me worry about Jack. Lucy, what's the signal?"

"You want me to decide?" she yelped.

Luke shrugged.

"It's your plan."

Fighting the nervousness of so many eyes on her, Lucy forced her brain to work.

"Um. It would have to be a time when Harry's in the Throne Room," she said. "And he's usually there in the afternoon, so how bout I signal to Francine the time with my fingers?"

Lucy held up one finger, and then two.

"It would be easy to hide fingers behind things, and would just look like flexing your hand to anyone who doesn't know."

Luke nodded his head.

"Sounds good. Everyone got their parts?"

_No,_ thought Lucy with a gulp.

"Just remember, this is a military operation," said Martin, ever the sergeant he had been in Vietnam. "And in military operations nothing goes according to plan."

Lucy considered herself forewarned.

-------

Lucy crumpled up the paper, and threw it across the room. It bounced off the wall and came to rest under a chair. Having vented her feelings, Lucy felt the frustration ebb. It was a stupid idea to be writing anything down anyways. What if Harry found it? She couldn't afford the luxury of an outlet for her feelings, not when she was in the middle of a conspiracy. She had to keep herself above suspicion if their plan was going to work.

With a sigh, Lucy went and picked up the crumpled sheet of paper, and tore it into little pieces before going into the bathroom and flushing them down the toilet. There could be no possible way that someone would find the few lines she had written _now_.

Dropping her sweater on one of the white chairs in the living room area of her suite, Lucy went to stand in front of her closet, the doors flung open wide. She had never noticed before, but all her tidy and expensive matching blazers and skirts were various shades of pale. In fact, rifling through the hangers, she found that _all_ her clothes were pale colours or shades of white.

White, white, white! Why was _everything_ white?!

Lucy felt like screaming. All the white was washing her out. It was fading her away until she was only a pale shadow of her former self. There was none of _Lucy_ left in all this sea of white.

Lucy began pulling skirts and tops and trousers out of the closet and throwing them on the floor. She never wanted to see them again, never mind wear them. Her search became a desperate one for something, anything, that wasn't a horrible pristine white or a sickly pale. Was there nothing of herself in this wardrobe? Was her own personality completely fading away? A sob escaped Lucy's throat as she tossed clothes into a pile on the floor.

And then she saw it.

On the very back hanger in the far back it hung unassumingly, with the tags still on. Lucy had never worn it. Back when Harry cared, he had bought it for her. It was something she would never have bought for herself, something that she didn't even like. Which is why she had stuffed it into the back of her wardrobe. But now she snatched it up, holding it in front of her and _drinking_ in the colour. It was the opposite of white: it was bright red. She took it off the hanger and ran her hands over the smooth silk. Backless, floor length, with a slit soaring high up one side, Lucy would never have thought that she could find her own personality in such a dress, but the colour called to her, reminding her that there was something beyond white.

Red for desire, for passion, for rage.

Lucy smiled grimly. It was perfect.

------

"I've just learned the most interesting thing, Dearest."

Lucy fought the urge to cringe away from his voice. She had the silk dress in her lap, taking it in with her sure needle. She had lost weight since it had been bought for her. Besides, somehow in the act of taking in the seems so that it didn't hang on her thin frame so much, it felt more like it belonged to her.

"Yes, Harry?" she said, fighting to keep her voice under control.

"Come here," he instructed.

Carefully, Lucy set the dress aside, and stood up, walking over to him. He watched her walk forward, his cruel eyes giving nothing away.

"It's about you," Harry said, smiling slightly.

Panic tore at Lucy's heart. He had learned that about the rebellion. He knew that she was a port of it. That had to be it. She fought to keep her expression neutral.

"You've been a very naught girl lately," he continued.

"What do you mean?" Lucy stuttered.

"How long have you been friends with the good Captain?" Harry asked.

Lucy nearly staggered back with the relief his words brought. Once, she would have been terrified that Harry knew about her frequent visits to Jack. Now, that was the least of her worries. Even if he killed her for talking to Jack, the rebellion would be safe.

She turned away from him, moving towards the window.

"I don't know what you mean," she said.

"Come now," Harry said. "Let's not play games with each other."

"Why not?" Lucy asked softly, her eyes challenging him. "It seems all we do is play games with each other. What's one more game?"

Harry's eyes shot sparks. He grabbed her arm and wrenched her to his side.

"I will not be spoken to like that," he hissed.

Lucy blinked against the tears of pain that were welling up in her eyes. He had grabbed the arm that he had fractured all those months ago, and it was still delicate when moved the wrong way.

Harry released her, his snake-like smile back and his sudden temper evaporated.

"You didn't answer my question. How long have you been visiting Captain Harkness?"

There was no use in lying. He knew about it already.

"Ever since the first day."

Harry _tsk_ed softly.

"You should know better than to fraternize with the prisoner."

Lucy shrugged his hand off her arm, and glowered at him.

"I don't like cruelty, especially to people who can't help themselves. You were _torturing _him."

"But you didn't seem to care before," Harry said, looking thoughtful. "Why do you care so much what happens to Jack Harkness?"

Lucy refused to look away from his soulless eyes, so different from Jack's expressive ones. Why did she care so much what happened to Jack? Because she couldn't stay away from him, that's why. Because something about him drew her like a spell again and again. Because she couldn't get him out of her thoughts, waking or dreaming. Because she loved him.

Something must have flickered on her face, because Harry looked startled. Comprehension dawned on him.

His face was incredulous.

"You're in love with him," he said, surprised. Then, a look of malicious delight spread over his face. He now knew where Lucy was vulnerable, and he planned to exploit her weak spot to its fullest extent.

"How dare you!" Lucy snapped, choosing defensiveness to throw him off his track.

But the delight in his face only grew larger.

"I'm right, aren't I? You're in love with enigmatic Captain Jack. Well, well, well. This _is_ an unusual turn of events."

His smile grew even more mocking.

"Darling, Darling. I expected better of you. I know you have a taste for hopeless cases. You picked me after all. Or rather, I picked you, my lovely subservient little darling. But the dead man walking? You poor, stupid thing."

He reached out and patted Lucy's head in a condescending manner, as if she were a little child who had just done something stupid by endearing.

Anger boiled over in Lucy, and she pulled his hand away from her.

"Don't touch me," she snapped.

With a sharp twist, Harry caught her hand and slammed her up against the wall. He pushed against her with his weight, making it impossible for her to move. His face was only inches from Lucy's, and she was forced to look straight into his icy eyes.

"Now, now, My Love," he said, his calm voice in sharp contrast to his quick and violent movements. "None of that. The little kitten has claws, does she? I hope you've told Captain Jack that he can look but not touch. You belong to me, do you understand? Mind, body, and soul, all mine. The dead man can have your heart if he wants it. If he will take so small and useless a thing. It is of no use to me."

Lucy began to sob, deep ripping sobs that seemed to tear at her chest.

Harry let a finger trail down her cheek, catching a tear.

"Don't cry, Dearest. There's no need for that," he said.

Dearest. Darling. My Love. He made the endearments sounds like a curse. The exact opposite of how they were supposed to be used. He never called her 'Lucy'. Not once since they had been married had he called her by her first name.

"Lucy," she said, her voice ragged. "My name is Lucy. You never call me by my name. My name is Lucy!" her tone got louder until she was practically shouting it.

Harry slammed her against the wall again with a force that rattled her teeth. She fell silent.

"You're name is whatever I choose it to be," he said, his voice dangerous. "You are mine. You belong to me. Without me, you are nothing and you have no identity. You are what I say you are, Darling."

He lifted a hand, and trailed it down Lucy's cheek.

Lucy jerked her face away.

"My… name… is… Lucy," she said with effort.

He shrugged. It didn't matter what she said. He was right. She belonged to him.

Harry's eyes darkened, and a spark of desire flew kindled in them. Lucy was suddenly terribly aware of how close they were, pressed up against one another. An icy finger gripped Lucy's heart.

Using the weight of his body to pin Lucy in place, Harry ran his hands down the length of Lucy's body and back up again.

Lucy shuddered at his touch.

"Let me go," she said, struggling.

Her struggle didn't seem to bother Harry at all. His hands made their wandering way back up again, lingering on her breasts before he slammed his lips onto hers. He kissed her harshly, forcing his way into her mouth.

Fresh tears began to stream down Lucy's face, and she struggled to break away. There was nothing she could do to get away from him.

"Don't," she whispered.

"What's this, my little darling? Going frigid on me? This is most unlike you. Come now. Pretend I'm Captain Jack, if it makes you feel better."

And then he was kissing her again, this time more invasive and demanding, pushing himself up against her like a dead weight she couldn't get out from under. His lips bruised hers with their force.

"Please Harry," she begged, when at last he left her at liberty to do so. But she already knew it was no use. He would get what he wanted from her, and there was no way she could stop him. He was stronger than she was, both physically and mentally.

Harry regarded her with something akin to curious surprise.

"Please what?" he asked, his tone pleasant.

"Don't force yourself on me," Lucy whispered.

"Force myself? No, no, My Love. I would never do that. I was just giving you time to warm up. There's no enjoyment in _forcing_ you." He ran a finger down her cheek. "I'm not the monster you seem to think I am."

He stepped back, releasing Lucy from his grip. She moved away from the wall, rubbing her wrists. The black bruises shaped like his fingers were already beginning to appear.

"I propose a compromise," he said.

Lucy turned to face him, her face incredulous.

"_Compromise_?" she hissed.

"You have something I want, and I have something you want," he said.

Lucy's eyebrows came together in surprise. Surely he was holding all the cards. What did she have that he wanted?

"You want something from me?" she said slowly.

Harry's smile was ruthless.

"Humans. You have such an … interesting way of generating pleasure between two people. No other species in the galaxy does it quite like you do. Intimacy on the highest level."

Oh. Of course.

"What do you need me for?" Lucy asked. "You have your whores."

Harry shook his head.

"Such language," he lamented. "I'm your husband. It's my _right_."

Lucy swallowed. So that was it. Harry wanted to prove to Jack that she was his and his alone.

"As I said before," Harry continued. "It_ can_ be forced, of course. But there's no real pleasure in that. It must be consented to. So, here is my compromise. You come to me when I want, whenever I want, with no complaining, and you will come willingly. And in return, I will leave your precious captain alone."

Lucy sucked in a breath.

"You will stop torturing Jack?" She asked, hardly believing it. For months Jack had been Harry's favorite toy and punching bag.

"I was getting bored of him anyways," Harry said. "What the fun in an unsolvable puzzle if you can't solve it? So, what do you say, Dearest?"

Lucy's mind was spinning. Sell herself for Jack's relative freedom? Buy Jack's release from pain with her consent? It was a heavy price to pay. But for Jack not to be always on the brink of death, always with cuts and bruises and coming back to life every day, was it worth it? For the love that she felt for him, was it too high a price? What was Jack worth to her?

"Done," said Lucy.

"I knew you would come around," Harry said He pulled her closer, his fingers already slipping down her throat as he reclaimed her lips.

_Author's Note: Yeah. I know. That end part was creepy. But I had to find a reason why the Lucy that I've so carefully built up, the one that's so full of hate for Harry and his murder of her child would look like a zombie in "Last of the Time Lords". And of course Jack had to be in there somewhere. _

_Yay for adding a tie in to the prologue! I have to admit, I wasn't sure what I was doing when I wrote that prologue. And I wasn't exactly happy with it once I realized the direction that the story was taking. But I'm pleased as punch that I got to work it in and make it fit with my vision for the story. _

_Oooooooh, we're getting close to the climax! I've watched the episode again, and taken extensive and exhaustive notes to make the next chapters as accurate as possible. So now the fun begins. _


	13. Chapter 12

"Are you sure you're ok with this?" Jack asked. His kind hazel eyes seemed to look straight into Lucy's soul. What would he see there? Lucy didn't even want to think about it. It made her cringe to think that Jack would know about the bargain she had struck with Harry.

Lucy shook her head.

"No. Doesn't matter, does it? Someone has to stop Harry, and the only way to do that is with our plan."

Jack frowned.

"I would like it a lot better if you weren't there," he said.

"How am I supposed to get out of it?" Lucy asked. "Harry always wants me in the Throne Room with him."

"I know," Jack said. His voice softened. "I just worry about you."

Lucy smiled a tiny smile.

"Worry about yourself and how you're going to get those chains free."

Jack grimaced at her comment, and shook his arms, so that the chains holding them out clattered against each other.

"Actually I've been working on that for a while now," he said.

"Yes?" Lucy asked, her eyebrow raised. She'd been very curious about how Jack was supposed to get out of his shackles. Luke had said that it would be taken care of, but she could scarcely believe it.

"You remember that time you came to see me, after your baby died?"

Lucy winced at the reference. It still hurt to think about Ellie.

"Sorry," Jack said. "But I struggled against my chains, remember?"

"I thought you were going to pull your arms out of their sockets," Lucy said, remembering.

Jack nodded.

"Well, they pulled away a little even if they didn't loosen altogether. Which gave me an idea. Ever since then I've been pulling on my chains a little each day. They're definitely loosening. A few big pulls and I think I'm outta here."

"And if you're not?" Lucy asked, biting her lip. "What if they're stronger than you think and you can't get out."

"I will," Jack said, his voice steely with determination.

"Anything I can do to help?" Lucy asked.

"Just stand there and look beautiful. You give me motivation."

Lucy laughed at his answer, her heart secretly thrilled. It was easy to see Jack now. Ever since their compromise, Harry didn't care. He found it all a bit of a joke. Lucy ignored his bawdy comments. The only thing that mattered was the time she spent with Jack.

Jack grinned at her.

"It's good to hear you laugh again."

"Just you worry about getting out of those chains," Lucy instructed, not letting him know how much his off-the-cuff compliments and remarks made her heart want to sing. Now wasn't exactly the best time to declare undying love for him. He had enough on his mind.

Lucy gathered up the plates she had brought, and brushed her skirt off with one hand.

"I should go," she said.

Jack nodded.

"See you on the other side," he replied jauntily.

Yes, thought Lucy. But the other side of what?

-------

Lucy shifted uncomfortably in her red dress. She was chilled with only a thin layer of satin between her and the less-than-tropical air. She rubbed the goosebumps from her arms and caught Francine's eye, and nodded. Everything was ready. She had been able to put the laser screwdriver into Harry's pocket this morning. The stage was set.

Francine, in her ridiculously puffy maid's outfit, gave a tiny nod of understanding.

Lucy twirled a strand of her golden hair around her finger, nervously waiting for Harry to show up. He _had_ said that he wanted her here today. It was an anniversary of sorts. A few days from now it would be one year since all of this had started. Lucy clenched her free hand at her side to stop it from drifting to her abdomen. She would have been six months pregnant by now, if only… if only…

She bit her lip fiercely to stop the tears of rage from coming. This was it. After today she would have her revenge for the death of her child.

There were footsteps in the hall. Harry was coming. Lucy braced herself.

The announcement came over the loudspeaker.

"Citizens, rejoice. Your lord and master stands on high. Playing track three!"

The doors whooshed open, and Harry slid in, a manic grin on his face. Lucy fought the urge to roll her eyes. Had he always been this melodramatic?

The music started.

_I can't decide whether you should live or die._

Lucy suppressed a shudder at the words. How much more ironic could you get? Harry half ran, half danced towards her, gripping her hard as he kissed her roughly. Lucy let herself go limp. That was part of their bargain. She would not resist anything he did to her. She let him take his fill, and then move away from her, kissing her hand as he moved on to the stairs at the far end of the room. Lucy went still again, her cheeks burning with shame.

Harry threw himself into his chair at the head of the conference table, and twirled around in it, singing to the music. He took a sip of the coffee Francine had set out on the table, and cringed. Francine shrunk away from him as he poured the beverage out onto the floor, and smashed the cup, but she held her ground. She was brave; Lucy had to give her that; brave or very, very foolish.

Harry took no notice of Francine's baleful stare, jumping out of his chair and leaping the steps two at a time to the top of the platform. He shook the bell enthusiastically, the sharp sound ringing out over the music.

Lucy wanted to put her hands over her ears and scream. She wanted to scream to drown out the song and the bell and Harry's manic laughter. She backed against the wall, feeling its coolness against her back, which had grown hot and sweaty despite her earlier chill.

Lucy didn't notice that the Doctor had emerged from his tent until Harry grabbed him, shaking him in time with the music as he sung along. The Doctor fell back into his wheelchair, a look of pain crossing his weathered features.

Harry grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and whipped it around towards the window.

"It's ready to rise, Doctor," Harry said.

Lucy turned away from Harry's gloating. Francine was mopping up the spilled coffee, a look of disgust on her features. Lucy angled herself towards the other woman, turning so that Harry wouldn't be able to see her speak.

"Everything's ready?" Lucy whispered.

Francine nodded.

"As soon as the Doctor gives the signal that he's ready, we move," she agreed.

"Jack is ready? Tish? Everyone?"

"You just worry about your part," Francine hissed. She ran a speculative eye over Lucy's bare arms. "Aren't you cold in that?"

Lucy gave her a tight smile.

"Freezing," she said.

Francine gave her a tiny wince of sympathy. Lucy caught Martha's name in Harry's conversation, and immediately Francine's attention was drawn away.

"…They say Martha Jones has come back home," Harry was sneering. "Now why would she do that?"

"Leave her alone," said the Doctor, his eyes still trained on the window.

"You said something to her, didn't you?" Harry demanded. "On the day I took control. What did you tell her?"

"I have only one thing to say to you, and you know what it is," said the Doctor. his voice was still calm.

Harry glared.

"Oh no you don't!" he snapped. With a quick thrust, he maneuvered the Doctor away from the window, the force of the push hurtling the chair into a wall.

"Citizens, rejoice!" crackled Harry's voice from the loudspeaker.

"Come on, people!" crowed the real Harry. "What are we doing? Launch day in 24 hours!"

But Lucy wasn't watching him. From his place backed up against the wall, the Doctor put out three fingers against the side of his chair.

Three fingers. Three o'clock. Lucy glanced at the clock as it counted off the seconds. It was 14:50. Ten minutes to three.

Francine, walking past with the tray, nodded. Then, she walked out of the room.

Lucy's nerves started to jitter.

"Dearest?" Harry said, addressing her directly for the first time.

"Yes?" she said, hiding her nervousness. It wouldn't do for Harry to see her uneasiness. For this plan to work he had to be completely unawares of what was going on.

"I'm going to talk a little walk. Will you join me?"

"Of course," Lucy murmured. It was not a request, but she liked to pretend sometimes that there was some control on her part. Not that it mattered. She took Harry's offered hand, and allowed him to lead her to a smaller room off the main one.

As soon as the door was closed, he caught her in a rough kiss.

"One year to the day soon, Darling," he said in her ear.

"Yes," Lucy said. "It hardly seems like a year."

"And yet look at everything that's happened."

Flashes of what the past year had brought her whipped through her mind. The horrors she had witnessed; the short spark of brilliance that had been Ellie's life; Lucy's own disillusionment; Jack's laughing face, despite his chains.

Harry nuzzled her neck, and kissed her again. Lucy let him.

"You really shouldn't be wearing this dress, you know. The thoughts that were going through my head…!"

"Do you want me to change?" Lucy asked, keeping her voice neutral.

"Oh, no," Harry murmured. "No, I don't think you'd better. I enjoy looking at you too much."

Lucy felt like a photo, to be viewed at his pleasure.

He kissed her, his hands running over the satin covering her body. Lucy held as still as she could, and tried to block out the feeling of him pawing her. She closed her eyes and felt herself remembering Jack's sparkling eyes, his wide smile.

Lucy glanced at the clock on the wall. 14:57. Three minutes to three. She had to think of a way for him to get back into the Throne Room.

"Harry, don't you usually have your massage at three?" she asked, forcing herself to tangle her hands in his hair and develop a breathless quality to her voice, as if his kisses had made her gasping.

Harry looked at her regretfully, his fingers tracing the panes of her face.

"You're right, Dearest."

Lucy wished with all her might that this was the last time he would ever touch her like this. After today, he would be finished.

Harry put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. Dutifully, Lucy snaked her arm around his waist as they walked back into the Throne Room together.

Francine and Tish were bent over the table, shining it to a polish.

"Time for my massage!" Harry said cheerfully, in utter contrast to the mood in the rest of the room. "Who shall I have today? Tanya?"

Lucy glanced over at Francine. Was everything ready? Francine pursed her lips, and bent her head over her work. Lucy tried to be reassured by this, but instead felt only fear.

"Dearest, have you met Tanya? She's gorgeous," Harry continued. He shrugged out of his jacket, and threw it onto the conference table. Lucy shot another glace at Francine, but Francine was intent on her work and didn't look up.

"Tanya, when we go to the stars, I'm going to take you to Catrigan Nova – world full of gold."

Harry was bating her, Lucy knew. Showing that he could have any woman he wanted, if she wasn't willing. He was probably already shagging Tanya on the side. Lucy didn't much care. Tanya could as much say no to him as Lucy could herself. She glanced at the clock again. 14:59. One more minute.

"You two should get to know each other," Harry said, as if struck by a new idea. "That might be fun!" Tanya's eyes grew large, and Lucy fought to stop a snort of amusement. Yeah, having the wife and the mistress get to know each other. That would be a _good_ idea, Harry. Lucy smoothed her face out into expressionlessness.

Tanya came up behind the seated Harry, and began to kneed his shoulders. Lucy glanced at the clock again. 15:00. Show time.

A sudden announcement on the loudspeaker broke the uneasy calm in the Thrown Room.

"Code red! Repeat, code red!" the voice shrieked.

The lights flickered.

All at once, there was a flurry of activity. Francine dived for Harry's jacket, snatching it up and tossing it to Tish. With a quick movement, Tish threw it to the Doctor, who caught it deftly, and pulled out the laser screwdriver.

Harry, out of his seat in a second, dashed up the stairs to the platform at the far end of the room. The Doctor, standing straight and tall, pointed the screwdriver at Harry.

Harry's smile didn't falter, and Lucy hoped to God it was just bravado.

"Ooooh, I see," Harry said.

"I told you," said the Doctor through gritted teeth. "I have only one thing to say."

And then, Harry did the thing that Lucy least expected, given the situation. He laughed.

The Doctor's face was set as he pushed the buttons of the screwdriver. Lucy held her breath. And…. and nothing happened.

Harry walked slowly down the stairs, leaning over the railing with a smug smile.

"Isomorphic controls," he said. He reached down and plucked the screwdriver out of the Doctor's frail hands. Then, with a swing of his arm, he punched the Doctor. He fell backwards and went sprawling on the floor.

"… which means," Harry continued with a serpentine smile, "that they only work for me…"

Lucy backed up against the wall, scared of what was going to happen. He was going to kill the Doctor now, surely.

"… like this," Harry took aim at Francine, and pressed the controls.

Francine ducked just in time to avoid the beam that shot from the screwdriver. A shower of sparks erupted over her head.

"Say sorry!!" Harry roared at her.

Francine cowered by the wall, bent double.

"Sorry!" she hissed through clenched teeth. Lucy knew what this humbling meant to her. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

"Mum!" Tish shrieked. She ran over to where her mother crouched, and put her arms around her.

Harry began to walk slowly down the rest of the steps.

"Didn't you learn anything from the blessed Saint Martha?" he asked. He beckoned Lucy to come forward with his eyes. She dared not refuse.

Lucy came forward, and picked up the jacket where it had been dropped. She held it out while Harry slipped his arms into it. The others would understand. She needed to stay above suspicion.

"Siding with the Doctor is a very dangerous thing to do," Harry chided, as if they were just naughty children. "Take them away."

Francine and Tish clung to one another as the guards came forward. Lucy recognized one from their conspiracy meetings, and internally sighed in relief. Charles would see that Francine and Tish we're treated too terribly.

"Move. Come on," Charles said out of the corner of his mouth as he led the women away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw movement. The Doctor was attempting to stand up.

Harry saw too.

"Ok, gotcha!" he said, gripping the Doctor's arm and forcing him up in a mocking image of kindness.

Lucy slipped back, trying to fade into the background as much as she could.

The Doctor was breathing hard, obviously winded and bruised from his fall. Lucy wished she could help him, but knew that there was nothing she could do that would not incriminate herself. Any help of the Doctor was an act of sedition in itself.

"There you go, gramps," Harry mocked. He pushed the Doctor's chair around with his foot. "Do you know, I remember the days when the Doctor – oh, that famous Doctor – was waging the Time War…"

The Doctor's face twisted at what must have been a painful memory, but Harry continued.

"… battling sea devils and axons. He sealed the rift at the Medusa Cascade single handed. Look at him now, stealing screwdrivers. How did he ever come to that? Oh yeah, me!" Harry laughed merrily. The sound chilled Lucy to the core.

"I just need you to listen…" The Doctor started again.

"No!" Harry interrupted sharply. "It's my turn! Revenge! Best served _hot_." He walked with determined steps to the camera sitting unobtrusively on its tripod. That was the camera he used to film executions and other public broadcasts, Lucy knew. She watched with wide-eyed horror, wondering what he would do now. Kill the Doctor? Make an example of him? Surely not.

"And this time," Harry continued. "It's a message for Miss Jones."

Martha. He was sending a message to Martha. Lucy felt her heart beat loudly and her chest constrict so that she could barely breathe.

He turned the camera on, and trained it towards his face. The red light blinked on, showing that it was recording. Harry gave the camera his best smile.

"My people," he said, beneficently. "Salutations, on this, the eve of war (lovely woman). But I know there's all sorts of whispers down there. Stories of a child walking the earth. Giving you all hope."

He turned sharply, and walked over to the Doctor, who sat proudly in his wheelchair, despite his age and frailty.

"But I ask you, how much hope has this man got?" Harry asked. He crouched down beside the Doctor so that the he was on par with the sitting man. "Say hello, Gandalf," he mocked. "Except, he's not that old. But he's an alien with a much greater life span than you stunted little apes. What if it showed?"

Harry got to his feet, and pulled out his laser screwdriver. Lucy fought the urge to cover her face with her hands. Here it came.

"What if I suspended your capacity to regenerate?" Harry continued. "All 900 years of your life, Doctor. What if we could see them?"

He aimed the screwdriver at the Doctor, and fired. The Doctor began to convulse in his chair, twitching and shaking in agony. Lucy took an involuntary step forward. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she wanted to stop the pain chasing itself across the Doctor's face. A look from Harry's flashing eyes froze her in her place.

"Older and older and older," Harry taunted. "Down you go, Doctor, down you go. Down, down, down."

With each repetition of the word, the Doctor seemed to slide further out of his chair. Then, he fell out of it entirely. Lucy had a horrible image of him cracking his head on the seat of it, or getting caught under the wheels, and pulled it aside. Surely Harry wouldn't mind that. She shot him a glace, but he didn't seem to notice her, so intent was he on the Doctor's pain.

The Doctor continued to writhe on the floor. When Lucy turned back from putting the chair out of the way, she all but gasped out loud. Where the Doctor had been previously there now was only a pile of twitching clothes.

He was dead.

There was no other explanation. Lucy felt her stomach fall away, and tears prickle the back of her eyes. Harry had killed him, vaporized him, leaving nothing but his stained and wrinkled brown suit behind.

Harry leered over his victim. His grin was more manic than ever as he rolled his head as if to loosen the neck muscles, and took a deep breath.

Lucy felt as if the world had fallen away from her. Her hands had found themselves over her mouth as if to stop the scream that she knew she could never let herself loose. Even trapped like that, the way Jack talked about the Doctor he had seemed a symbol of hope to Lucy. More even than Martha Jones was. The way Jack talked about him, the Doctor had gotten out of far worse circumstances than these, and would somehow defeat Harry in the end. Even with her hands pressed tightly over her mouth, Lucy made an involuntary squeaking sound.

Harry glanced at her, and she quelled.

"Doctor?" Harry called. He crouched down and poked at the crumpled heap of clothes.

Lucy wondered what kind of cruel joke this was. Then, she nearly bit off her tongue in an effort to swallow her scream. The rumpled clothes were _moving_. Out of them, blinking in the light with huge, pale, milky eyes was a horrible shrunken dwarf _thing_, old and wrinkled beyond all reason. Lucy stared at it with horror. Was _that_ the Doctor?

Harry straightened up, looking at the thing with revulsion. He smiled condescendingly at it, then walked straight to the camera so that only he was in frame.

"Received and understood, Miss Jones?"

Then he clicked the camera off.

_Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long. It was hard work getting all the information I needed out of the episode. I wanted to follow it as closely as possible, but it turned out to be extra hard to do so. Especially with stuff that's been going on in my life right now - I didn't have a lot of time to carefully transcribe a DW episode :-P_

_I'm sorry if Harry's particularly creepy in this chapter. Lucy's basically given him license to do whatever he wants with her, and he's using this to the full extent. I watched this segment of the episode about four times, and the thing that struck me was how _zombie like _Lucy is. She's almost catatonic. The poor thing! Hang on, honey, the end is coming!_


	14. Chapter 13

Lucy stared in horror at the cage where the wizened Doctor now hung suspended from the ceiling. He was like a gnome, a shrunken troll with huge, heartrending eyes.

"Doctor?" she whispered, brushing her fingers against the bars of the cage.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice cracked and dry.

Lucy shook her head.

"I couldn't be anywhere else. Not with you like this. Does it hurt?"

The Doctor shook his ancient head.

"No. I'm just… tired. So achingly tired."

"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered. And she meant it.

"It's not your fault," the Doctor said, with a sad shake of his head. "I'm glad to see that you've learned compassion."

Lucy grimaced, remembering the Russian operative, and the Doctor's words to her then.

"I think Jack taught it to me," she replied honestly.

"Does this mean you've make your choice?"

"For better or worse," Lucy said, bitterly echoing her words from so long ago.

The door slid open, and Lucy jumped, whirling around. But it was only Luke. He nodded crisply to her, and said nothing.

"The Master won't like you talking to me," the Doctor reminded her.

"I know," Lucy replied, running a hand through her hair.

"Look after yourself," the Doctor whispered.

"I'll be back," Lucy vowed, as she turned to go. She walked to the door with a heavy heart, pushing it open and slipping out into the hallway

------

Jack was secured with a double thickness of chains this time. They weren't taking any chances that he might escape again. Lucy winced to see how tightly the manacles dug into his wrists and ankles.

"I'm surprised they would have you in the same place," she said softly. "I was prepared to have to find out where they'd taken you."

Jack made a face.

"I'll never credit the Master with being very bright," he answered. "He's stopped trying to kill me, but I'm still the prize of his collection, and he doesn't want me to forget it. I'm on _display_."

"Are they feeding you enough?" Lucy asked, her eyes scanning his ragged form. For a man who had been in shackles and living on scraps for a year, he looked surprisingly good. He was still muscled and toned, his chest still solid. That was probably because his muscles regrew themselves, and didn't waste away, Lucy reasoned. His clothes were dirty rags by this time, ripped and filthy almost beyond recognition. His face was soot-stained and sweat-streaked as well. Everything about him was dirty and frayed, except for his very blue eyes, which shone out of his grimy face and still seemed to have the ability to look straight into Lucy's soul.

Jack shrugged noncommittally, his blue eyes lingering on Lucy's face.

"It's not as good as the food you used to bring me, but it's twice a day, and that's good enough for me."

"I can smuggle you more," Lucy said.

Jack shook his head.

"You have to stay above suspicion, no matter what happens. The Master can't think you're involved in any of this." "He already knows I come to visit you," Lucy said. Her mind instantly went back to the bargain she and Harry had made. She had kept her end of the deal, and so far, Harry had kept his.

"And he doesn't care?'

Lucy gave a hollow chuckle.

"He doesn't much care what I do."

"I guess that's a blessing," Jack said.

"I guess," Lucy replied.

She sighed, and pulled up a rough wooden chair, sitting on it in front of Jack.

"I was thinking about the kitchen," she said. "I think we should do it in yellow."

Jack grinned.

"Back to planning the house, are we?"

Lucy smiled faintly.

"It's a castle in the air that I can escape to when things get bad. So what do you think about yellow for the kitchen?"

------

Lucy walked down the hall, not much caring where she was going. As before, she often wandered the halls of the Valiant, wandering aimlessly to keep herself occupied, and from thinking too much. She passed the doors to the Throne room and considered going in. An image of the shrunken dwarf that was the Doctor flitted through her mind, and she decided against it.

She walked past the doors, her feet taking her down the passageway that lead to her suite.

Around the bend came Harry, flanked by several of his guards. He seized her arm has he passed, and began to pull her along with him, backwards, towards the Throne Room.

"I need you with me, Dearest," Harry said mildly, his kind tone contradicting the tight grip he had on her arm.

Lucy wiggled around in his vice-like grip, turning herself so that she once more faced the Throne Room. Harry offered her his arm, and she took it.

Harry opened the door with one smooth push, the door sliding out widely in front of him.

"Tomorrow they launch!" he said jovially.

He was talking about the rockets. Tomorrow they launched the rockets, and waged war on the rest of the galaxy. Untold horrors would be started with the launch of those rockets. Lucy's knees felt weak at the thought, and she clung to Harry's arm to keep herself from falling.

"We're opening the rift into Braccatolian space," Harry continued. "They won't see us coming. Kinda scary!" His grin was huge.

"Then stop," the Doctor croaked.

Harry turned to the Doctor with a start, as if he had forgotten that the cage was there. He walked straight up to the metal prison.

"Once the empire is established and there's a new Gallifrey in the heavens, maybe then… it stops," Harry was so close to the Doctor's cage now that his nose was almost pressed against the bars. "The drumming," he whispered. "The neverending drum beat."

A wild look came into Harry's eyes. It was fevered, manic; the look of a madman. Lucy took an involuntary step backwards.

"Ever since I was a child," Harry continued. "I looked into the vortex. That's when it chose me. The drumming, the call to war. Can't you hear it?" His fingers tapped a frantic beat on the bars of the cage.

_Tap tap tap tap _

_Tap tap tap tap _

"Listen, it's there now. Right now. Tell me you can hear it, Doctor. Tell me."

Lucy found herself straining to hear around the beat he was tapping out. It seemed to fill the whole cavernous room and eat down on her ears, until she wanted to cover them and scream to drown out the noise.

"It's only you," the Doctor whispered.

Harry seemed to search the Doctor's wizened face for some answer. Then, he turned away, satisfied with what he found.

"Good," he said.

Behind Lucy, the door slid open. She turned around, and then wished she hadn't. A Toclafane has entered.

"Tomorrow, the war. Tomorrow we rise, never to fall!" it tittered in its baby voice.

"You see?" Harry said, turning away from the Doctor's cage. "I'm doing it for them. You should be grateful! After all, you love them. So very, very much."

The Doctor's face was full of that heart-breaking sadness again. He knew. He knew what the Toclafane really were: humans from the future. _This_ is what they became. Lucy wished she didn't know.

Harry threw himself down at the table, slouching in his chair.

"I took Lucy to Utopia," he said, his eyes still on the Doctor.

Lucy jumped to hear her name. It had been so long since she had heard her name from his lips that she had forgotten what it sounded like.

"A Time Lord and his human companion. I took her to see the stars. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Trillions of years into the future. To the end of the universe." Lucy said, her voice sounding dead in her own years. To think of that place of cold and dark and endless despair – Lucy tried to force her memory to it, but her mind rebelled.

"Tell him what you saw," Harry prompted.

Lucy struggled to comply.

"Dying," she whispered. "Everything dying. The whole of creation falling apart. And I thought… there's no point. No point to anything. Not ever."

Jack's voice filtered back to her from a corner of her memory.

_"I was there too. I was there at the end of the universe. And you know what I saw? Hope. I saw the human rice, at the end of everything, still clinging on against all odds, still surviving and living in the hope of Utopia" _

Hope, Jack said. He said there was hope there, where she had seen none. And even here, with Harry dominating everything, on the eve of war with the rest of the galaxy, she thought Jack might be right.

"And it's all your fault," Harry taunted. "You should have seen it, Doctor. Furnaces, burning. The last of humanity screaming in the dark. All that human invention that had sustained them across the eons. It all turned inwards. They cannibalized themselves."

"We made ourselves so pretty," the Toclafane chimed in.

Lucy jumped. She had forgotten it was there.

"They regressed themselves into children. But it didn't work. The universe was collapsing around them. So I brought them here, I saved them. Of course, I had a little help."

"That's a paradox," the Doctor said.

Harry grinned manically.

"I know! My masterpiece, Doctor. A living TARDIS strong enough to hold the paradox in place, allowing the past and the future to collide in infinite majesty."

"But you're changing history!" the Doctor protested. "Not just Earth, the entire universe."

"I'm a Time Lord," growled Harry. "I have that right!"

"But even then, why come all this way just to destroy?"

The Doctor really didn't understand, Lucy realized. He had been enemies with Harry for so many hundreds of years and he still didn't understand. Why did Harry come to destroy and pillage? Because he wanted to, there was no other reason. Destruction for its own sake.

"… to build a brand new empire lasting 100 trillion years," the Toclafane giggled.

"With me as their master. Time Lord and human combined," Harry's eyes slid over Lucy in a way that made her skin crawl. "Haven't you always dreamt of that, Doctor?"

Harry sprang out of his chair, and walked back over to the Doctor's cage.

"The human race," he said. "Greatest monsters of them all. Night- night!"

He held out his hand to Lucy, and she forced herself to go to him, to let him wrap his arm around her and lead her out of the room. The Toclafane followed.

-----

As soon as they were back in their own suite, Harry threw off his jacket.

"What a day!" he exclaimed, throwing himself onto a white chair.

Lucy settled into her favorite chair by the window.

"You must be tired," she said, in an empty voice. She could care less.

Harry sat up, and flashed her a cocky grin.

"You know me. I don't need as much sleep as you pathetic apes. My body doesn't need anything so weak as sleep."

Lucy didn't answer. She turned her head towards the window, looking out at the endless blue. Below them, a heavy mantle of cloud blanketed the ground, hiding it from sight.

Harry slumped in his chair again, his fingers beginning their restless drumming once again.

_Tap tap tap tap _

_Tap tap tap tap _

_Tap tap tap tap _

Lucy thought back to what Harry had said before, to the Doctor.

"Have you really heard it ever since you were a child? The drumming?"

Harry looked up at her. For once his face held no malice or manic energy.

"Yes," he said. "Ever since I looked into the Untempered Schism, I've heard it in my mind. The incessant drumming."

Emboldened by his response, Lucy dared to ask another question.

"Can't you do anything to stop it?"

"I tried," said Harry. "When I was young, I tried to drown it out. But eventually I realized it wasn't something to be avoided. It was a call to arms. Now I march to that drummer's beat. Where it leads me, I go."

His words chilled Lucy. They were the words of a madman. And looking into his face at that moment, she knew that he _was_ mad. In fact, she realized that she had never truly known it until that moment. She had, somewhere deep down, always thought that there must have been a scrap of humanity in Harry, some spark of compassion and mercy buried within him. But he wasn't human, and there was no compassion, only insanity.

Harry sprang up from his seat.

"Do you hear it, Dearest? Do you hear the drumming?"

His eyes were wild, his voice excited and agitated.

Lucy shook her head.

"I don't hear it," she whispered.

Harry grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet. His hands were a vice grip on her arm.

"Don't you?" he demanded. "Don't you hear that wild, heady beat? Answer me!!" he shook her violently.

Lucy felt her teeth rattling in her head. Fear, corrosive and bitter, rose up in her throat. There was no telling what this madman would do; his actions were in no way predictable. A tear slipped from her eye and rolled down her cheek.

"No, Harry," she whispered, "No. I don't hear it."

She didn't know what would have happened in that moment, what Harry would have done next, had there not been a knock at the door to the suite.

Harry let his hands drop, and immediately his previous persona snapped back. It was as if, for a moment, the mask has slipped, and Lucy had seen the _real_ Harry for the first time. She had seen her first real look at the Master in that second. But now the calm, collected mask was back in place as if it had never left.

"Come in," he said.

A guardsman stepped into the room.

"Sir," he said, his voice crisp and military. "I have something very important to report."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"We've found Martha Jones."

_Author's Note: This chapter's a little shorter than usual, and I'm sorry. There's not a lot of wiggle room for extra material when it comes to the script of the episode, and I wanted to have the part with Martha in a separate chapter. _

_It's been challenging, but fun trying to fit Lucy's thoughts into the structure of the episode. When I was watching it, I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking, and itch to write it out. There's so much more to her (I like to think) that just what was shown onscreen. _


	15. Chapter 14

Lucy flew down the hall, her breath ragged, her lungs burning. But she couldn't stop. A horror drew her on, a despair that gave her speed but sapped her strength.

The doors to the kitchen proved no obstacle. She pushed past them and rushed into the cavernous room.

"Lucy, what is it?" Nina asked, scanning the other woman's flushed face and disheveled hair.

"Martha," Lucy panted. "They've caught Martha Jones."

A hush had fallen over the room. There was no sound, except for the low bubbling of boiling water.

"When?" Nina asked.

"Just now," whispered Lucy. "Harry's gone down to Earth to get her."

"God save us," Mark, the assistant cook, whispered.

Everyone stared at each other in shocked silence. In the back of the room, a woman started to sob.

"What hope is there for us now?" asked a girl who looked no more than fifteen, clad in a greasy apron.

"None," Lucy said, feeling the tears gather in her own eyes. "There's none left."

Nina put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you for telling us," she said.

Lucy fled.

-------

"Citizens of Earth, rejoice and observe."

Harry's recorded voice came over the loudspeaker, and Lucy flinched at it. The door to the Throne Room hissed open, and two guards came in, flanking Martha Jones.

It was the first time in a year that Lucy had seen the famous freedom fighter. Her name had been on everybody's lips and in everybody's mind, but Lucy could hardly remember what she looked like until that moment. She looked like Tish, Lucy reflected, only harder. Her mouth had a grimmer set to it, determined and resolute. Beneath her non-descript black clothes, muscles bunched.

More guards entered, escorting the Jones family and, to Lucy's surprise, Jack. Jack was unsteady on his feet, after having not used them in so long. It seemed strange to see Jack in any other context besides chained up. It was almost surreal.

Martha stepped forward, and caught sight of her family. A huge grin spread across her pretty face, and relief echoed in her eyes. Lucy could tell that she was glad they were still alive. Jack was looking at Martha and grinning. Lucy felt a pang of jealousy spread through her. Jack surged forward, eager to get closer to his old friend, but his guard motioned with his gun to stay still.

"Your teleportation device," Harry said. "In case you thought I'd forgotten."

Martha reached into her pocket and threw him an object that looked like an oversized watch.

"And now, kneel," Harry commanded.

Lucy held her breath. This was usually where the freedom fighters got angry and lost their lives very quickly. For a second, she contemplated throwing herself at Martha to protect her from the Toclafane's killer beam, but then dismissed it. That wouldn't do anything except get herself killed for no reason.

To Lucy's surprise, Martha dropped to her knees with no protest.

Harry loomed over her kneeling figure, gloatingly.

"Down below," he said. "The fleet is ready to launch. Two hundred thousand ships set to burn across the universe." He walked to the comm. link and pressed it. "Are we ready?"

"The fleet awaits your signal. Rejoice!" said a crackling voice from the other end.

Harry rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Three minutes to align the black hole converters. Counting down!" He flipped a switch, and a countdown began on the clock. He grinned infectiously at Lucy, like a child who had been granted some particular treat. "I could never resist a ticking clock. My children, are you ready?"

The Toclafane outside the window fairly vibrated with excitement. Lucy felt sick.

"At zero," continued Harry, "To mark this day, the child Martha Jones will die. Ha, my first blood!" he chortled. "Ha, any last words? No?" he shot a glance at the Doctor. "Such a disappointment, this one. Days of old, Doctor, you had companions who could absorb the time vortex. This one's useless!"

He turned to Martha gloatingly. He was savoring this moment a whole year in coming. She had been such a frustration to him, such a thorn in his side, that he was not going to let her off easily with a Freedom Fighter's death.

"Bow your head," he commanded. "And so it falls to me, the Master of all, to establish from this day a new order of Time Lords. From this day forward…"

Then, Martha did what Lucy would have least expected. Throughout Harry's speech, she had been smirking. Now, she actually laughed out loud, effectively cutting off Harry's burgeoning rant.

"What?" Harry demanded, taken aback. "What's so funny?"

"A gun?" Martha chuckled.

"What about it?" Harry snapped.

"A gun in four parts?" Martha's voice was mocking.

"Yes, and I destroyed it," Harry reminded her.

"A gun in four parts scattered across the world? I mean, come on. Did you _really _believe that?"

Harry was taken aback.

"What do you mean?"

"As if I would ask her to kill," the Doctor said softly.

Harry was frozen for a moment, his mind turning like cogs on a watch. Lucy could practically hear the gears shifting and locking into place. Then, the gleam came back into his eye.

"Oh well," he said cheerfully. "It doesn't matter. I've got her exactly where I want her."

"But I knew what Professor Docherty would do. The Resistance knew about her son," Martha said. "I told her about the gun, so she'd get me here. At the right time."

Right time? Lucy thought. What did Martha mean by the 'right time'? Her brow furrowed in confusion.

Harry didn't seem to pick up on it. He was too caught up in the fact that he had _Martha Jones_ kneeling before him, head bowed in submission.

"But you're still going to die," he taunted.

"Don't you want to know what I was doing? Travelling the world?" Martha asked.

Lucy leaned forward a little, and she felt the Jones' do it too. They very much wanted to know.

"Tell me," instructed Harry, feigning disinterest.

"I told a story," said Martha. Her dark features were alive with an inner light that made her glow. "I told a story, that's all. No weapons, just words. I did just what the Doctor said. I went across the continents all on my own. And everywhere I went, I found the people, and I told them my story. I told them about the Doctor. And I told them to pass it on, to spread the word so that everyone would know about the Doctor."

Harry's smirk grew wider, if possible.

"Faith and hope?" he taunted. "Is that all?"

"No," said Martha, a small smile playing on her lips. "Cause I gave them an instruction, just like the Doctor said."

Martha rose gracefully from her knees, so that she was standing in front of Harry.

"I told them that if everyone thinks of one word, at one specific time…"

Harry was angry now. He didn't understand what was happening, the situation was slipping from his control.

"Nothing will happen!" shrieked Harry, furious. "Is that your weapon?! Prayer?!"

But Martha was not so easily distracted.

"… right across the world," she continued, as if Harry had not spoken. "One word, just one thought, at one moment… but with fifteen satellites."

Archangel. The fifteen satellites that Harry had used to brainwash everyone into voting for him. They were still active, still working to keep everyone repressed. And Martha had found a way to use them. Hope, heady and warm and almost totally foreign, coursed through Lucy's system, making her feel, for the first time in months, like she was _alive_.

"What?" whispered Harry, and Lucy could see that he was struggling to come to terms with what Martha was talking about.

"The Archangel Network," Jack said.

Martha smiled.

"A telepathic field binding the whole human race together, with all of them, every single person on earth thinking the same thing. And that word is … Doctor."

The countdown on the clock reached zero. Lucy held her breath.

Then she gasped. A glowing ring of light was encircling the wizened figure of the Doctor, surrounding him with a glow like Lucy had never seen before.

"Stop it!" yelled Harry. "No, no, no, no, you don't!"

"Doctor."

It was only a whisper, but it tore through Lucy like a piercing arrow. Francine's eyes were closed, as she murmured the name.

Lucy glanced over. Jack's eyes were closed as well.

"Doctor."

"Doctor."

On the far side of the room, the large plasma screen showed people, all standing in the streets. All saying one word.

"Doctor."

"Stop it!" Harry shrieked. "Stop this right now!"

But this would not stop. This could not be stopped. This was their salvation, what Martha Jones had been working for the whole year. Lucy felt a lump rise up in her throat. This was her shot to get rid of Harry, to officially throw her lot in with Jack and the others. And at that moment, staying above suspicion didn't even matter. If this didn't work, it wouldn't matter if she was dead or not.

Something inside Lucy shifted, and she knew what she had to do. Closing her eyes, she whispered one word, one word that stood for hope and life and freedom from this tyranny.

"Doctor," she said.

"Doctor."

"Doctor."

The field around the Doctor's shrunken form increased, and the light got brighter. The bars of the cage broke apart and landed on the floor with not a sound. The Doctor was free. And whatever force Harry had exerted on him to turn him into the wrinkled gnome, it was coming undone. Like an enchanted person in a fairy tale, the Doctor was breaking free of his spells.

"I've had a whole year to tune myself into the psychic network and integrate with its matrices," he said.

"I order you to stop!" said Harry again. But there was a tenor in his voice that Lucy had never heard before: fear.

"Doctor," Lucy said again, louder this time, hoping against all hope that this would work.

"Doctor."

"Doctor."

The Doctor was getting younger and younger. He became the man he first was, at the beginning of this nightmare year.

"Cause the one thing you can't do," he said, his voice now strong and deep and _sure_. "Is stop them thinking."

Martha and Jack laughed. Harry stared in shocked horror at what was happening.

Using the field that surrounded him, the Doctor rose up into the air.

"Tell me the human race is degenerate now, when they can do _this_," the Doctor said.

Some trace was broken on the assembled people. Martha, who had stood so still until that moment, suddenly made a run for her family, launching herself into her mother's arms.

"No!" Harry said. He fired his laser screwdriver, but the Doctor calmly deflected it, using the same strange force that held him aloft.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said. "I'm so sorry." And his eyes were full of the ancient sadness that Lucy had seen there so many times before.

"Then I'll kill _them_," Harry said, taking aim at Martha and her family.

Lucy's heart jumped into her throat and she was about to cry out. But there was no need. The Doctor, using the field that surrounded him, threw the laser screwdriver across the room. Without his weapon, Harry looked small, shrunken. He panicked.

"You can't do this!" he railed, almost like a petulant child deprived of his favorite toy. "You can't do… it's not fair!"

Lucy nearly laughed out loud. Had he actually said that? That it wasn't _fair_? He really was nothing but a spoiled child!

"You know what happens now," the Doctor said, and Lucy had the feeling that they had done this dance together before.

"No!" Harry yelled.

The Doctor raised his hand, and gently allowed himself to float down to the ground. Harry backed away from him.

"No! No, no no!"

"You wouldn't listen," the Doctor said.

"No!"

"Because you know what I'm going to say."

Harry dropped to the ground, curling in on himself into the fetal position. Lucy looked at him with disgust. Harry was a coward through and through, and she waited for the moment with the Doctor would crush him under his shoe.

The Doctor's feet touched the ground, and he walked over to Harry as he lay whimpering on the ground.

For the second time in as many minutes, Lucy was shocked almost senseless. Of all the things she had imagined the Doctor doing to Harry when he was in position, this one never occurred to her.

The Doctor crouched down beside the pathetic figure, and wrapped his arms around him.

"I forgive you," The Doctor said.

A familiar hardness entered into Harry's back eyes.

"My children!" he yelled.

The Toclafane outside the window suddenly charged into action.

"Protect the paradox! Protect the paradox!" they all screamed in unison.

"Captain!" the Doctor yelled. "The paradox machine!"

Jack sprang into action.

"You men," he cried, pointing at Luke and several of his men. "With me!"

Lucy made a move to go forward. To come with him.

Jack shook his head imperceptivity

"You stay here," he instructed.

Out of the corner of Lucy's eye, she saw a flicker of movement. Harry had pulled something out of his pocket.

"No!" she yelled.

But it was too late. Harry and the Doctor had disappeared.

Everyone in the room stared blankly at the spot where they had been. Martha was the first one to recover. She ran over to a consol and started pressing buttons.

"We've got all 6 billion spheres heading straight for us," she said.

Lucy's blood ran cold.

"What do we do?" she asked, her eyes darting across the room.

"Wait for Jack," Tish said. "The only hope we have is if he destroyed the paradox machine."

"And when the paradox machine is gone, the Toclafane can't be here," Lucy concluded.

Martha shot Lucy a questioning look.

"I don't mean to be rude, but aren't you his wife?"

"She's been helping us," Francine said roughly. Lucy gave the older woman a surprised look. Since when did Francine defend her?

"She's suffered just as much as we have," Tish said.

Lucy felt a rush of warmth for the other woman, and smiled.

Martha nodded. She seemed to just accept that Lucy was on their side.

"It's almost over now, for good or evil," she said.

Lucy drew a shaking breath, and before she had time to let it out, the Doctor and Harry appeared back in the room, both glaring daggers at each other.

Then, Lucy was thrown off her feet. The room rocked and shuddered and the Toclafane outside the window disappeared as if they had never been. Clinging to the railing at the top of the stairs for support, Lucy saw Martha tumble over, only to be caught by the Doctor, who gave her a shining smile.

"Everyone down!" the Doctor yelled. "Time is reversing!"

Then he too was knocked to the ground, as everything seemed to be turning on its head. As suddenly as it had started, the movement stopped, and all was still.

The Doctor jumped to his feet, and ran to the controls.

"The paradox is broken!" he said jubilantly. "We've reverted back, one year and one day. Two minutes past 8:00 in the morning." He flipped a switch.

A voice filled the room.

"This is UNIT central. What's happened there? We just saw the President assassinated."

The President of America. The memories returned to Lucy in a fog. It was so long ago. So many horrific things had happened since then.

"You see?" the Doctor was saying. "Just after the President was killed, but just before the spheres arrived. Everything's back to normal. Planet Earth restored. None of it happened. The rockets, the terror. It never was."

"What about the spheres?" Martha asked.

"Trapped at the end of the universe," the Doctor said, sadly.

"But I remember it," whispered Francine.

Francine was right – if everything was back to normal, shouldn't they have forgotten what happened? Shouldn't they be back to where they were one year ago?

"We're at the eye of the storm. We're the only ones who will ever know."

The only ones who would ever know. Lucy's mind was slow in grasping that. Everything that had ever happened, everyone who had ever died, it was all undone. And the only ones who would ever know were standing right in this room.

The Doctor walked over to where the Jones family stood together.

"Oh, hello!" he said to Clive. "You must be Mr. Jones! We haven't actually met."

Harry suddenly took off with a burst of energy. Lucy's hand flew to her mouth as she watched him break for the door, unable to do anything about it. But at the last moment, Jack slid into view, blocking the exit.

"Whoa, big fella! You don't want to miss the party. Cuffs," he instructed. Luke whipped out his set with a grim smile, and cuffed Harry securely.

Lucy felt her eyes drawn to Jack, letting herself savour him. He was alright. He was alive and standing there and saving the day.

"So what shall we do with this one?" Jack asked.

"We kill him," Clive said flatly.

"We execute him," Tish agreed, with flint in her voice.

Lucy agreed wholeheartedly.

The Doctor shook his head sadly.

"No, that's not the solution."

Francine pulled something out from behind her. It was a gun, gleaming dully in the new morning's light.

"Oh, I think so," she said, aiming it calmly at Harry. "Cause all those… things, they still happened because of him. I saw them."

"Go on," Harry jeered. "Do it."

"Francine," the Doctor said gently. "You're better than him." he reached out, and took her hand, looking into her eyes. Francine trembled with anticipation and fear and release. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Her grip loosened on the gun, and the Doctor took it, pulling her into a hug. Martha, hovering close by, gently took hold of her mother. The Doctor placed the gun on the table, turning away from it.

"You still haven't answered the question. What happens to me?" Harry asked.

"You're my responsibility now. The only Time Lord left in existence."

They weren't going to kill him. The thought settled over Lucy like an icy blanket. They weren't going to execute Harry for his crimes. They were going to let him live. No! Something inside Lucy shrieked with agony and hatred. The day that Ellie had died, she had made a promise that she would see him dead. Now it was time to live up to that.

Slowly, as if coming out of a trance, Lucy began to move. One foot at a time, she descended the stairs, moving towards the gun on the table.

"Yeah," Jack was saying. "But you can't trust him."

So close. She was so close. If nobody noticed her, she could reach out and grab the gun…

"No," said the Doctor. "The only safe place for him is in the TARDIS."

She got it! Her hand closed over the cool metal, the gun feeling heavy and foreign in her hand.

"You mean you're going to… keep me?" Harry whined.

Carefully, she made her way back up the stairs. Better vantage point. Less chance of hurting anyone else. Only Harry should pay for this. Only Harry.

"Hmmm. If that's what I have to do," the Doctor said. He glanced at Jack. "It's time for a change. Maybe I've been wandering too long. Now I'll have someone to care for."

Lucy's hand gripped the gun, and she slid her finger onto the trigger. She held it out in front of her, arms straight just like she had been taught, and took aim. Straight at Harry's heart, the place where he had shot her with his words and actions so many times.

"This is for Ellie," she whispered. "For Jack. For me."

And she pulled the trigger.

_Author's Note: Wow, writing from a script is seriously hard. It's difficult to work around the other action, as it were. Finding Lucy's story underneath the story is a challange. All the anger and hate she feels at the moment when she shoots Harry – it's a powerful thing. Ok, I need to go do something happy now…. _

_We're on almost at the finish line, folks. Only a few more chapters, and Lucy's story will be complete. Thank you to those of you who've stuck with me through this story. I know it's hard to read sometimes (heck, it's hard to write), but I think it's a story worth telling. _


	16. Chapter 15

_Lucy's hand gripped the gun, and she slid her finger onto the trigger. She held it out in front of her, arms straight just like she had been taught, and took aim. Straight at Harry's heart, the place where he had shot her with his words and actions so many times. _

_"This is for Ellie," she whispered. "For Jack. For me." _

_And she pulled the trigger. _

The gunshot shattered the room. Her aim was true; Harry staggered backward. His eyes sought Lucy's, holding them for a moment, and she maintained the contact. She wanted Harry to know that it was _she_ who had shot him. Her, Lucy Cole, downtrodden and enslaved, a mere weak human ape. _She_ had caused his death.

The Doctor rushed forward to catch his stumbling enemy.

Jack was at Lucy's side in a moment.

"Put it down," he said.

Lucy looked from him to the gun in her hand, and then handed it to him. Jack placed it out of the way, and then swept Lucy up into his arms. Lucy buried her face into his filthy shirt, as she had down so many other times. She was shaking all over, but she couldn't cry. Not yet.

"It's ok, Lucy," Jack whispered into her hair. "Everything's ok. It's over."

Lucy held on to him like a lifeline, pulling him closer to her. It was the first time that Jack had ever held her. All the other times, his hands had been chained, and it was she who held him. Now, he held her securely.

"There you go," she heard the Doctor say over Jack's shoulder. Jack let go of her, but kept his arm around her shoulders, anchoring her to reality.

"I've got you," the Doctor said soothingly, as he lowered Harry gently to the floor. "I've got you."

Harry's eyes flashed over to Lucy again.

"Always the women," he said, almost ruefully.

"I didn't see her," said the Doctor.

"Dying in your arms. Happy now?" Harry taunted, his voice weak.

"You're not dying," insisted the Doctor. "Don't be stupid. It's only a bullet. Just regenerate."

"No," said Harry.

"One little bullet," coaxed the Doctor. "Come on."

"I guess you don't know me so well after all. I refuse."

The Doctor looked on the verge of tears.

"Regenerate," he pleaded softly, his voice breaking with emotion. "Just regenerate. Please. Please! Just regenerate! Come on!"

"And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with you?" Harry scoffed.

"You've got to," pleaded the Doctor. "Come on. It can't end like this. You and me, all the things we've done. Axons? Remember the Axons? And the Daleks?"

Lucy wasn't sure what that had to do with anything. But then she saw it in the Doctor's face: desperation; loneliness; fear. He wanted Harry to live. He _actually_ wanted it, after everything that Harry had done to him, had done to the world.

"We're the only two left," the Doctor whispered brokenly. "There's no one else. Regenerate."

"How bout that? I win," said Harry, his voice very faint now. Lucy had to strain to hear it. "Will it stop, Doctor? The drumming. Will it stop?"

And then, he was silent.

Harry was dead.

The Doctor held Harry in his arms, tears falling from his face, rocking the body of his ancient enemy and the last surviving member of his race back and forth. He sobbed with grief, and the utter emptiness of being the last of his kind.

Lucy, looking on, understood.

------

"Are you sure you don't want to be there?" Jack asked.

Lucy shook her head.

"I can see the flames well enough from here," she said, leaning against the blue wooden walls of the TARDIS.

A hundred or so meters in front of them, in the darkness, the Doctor lit the fire of Harry's funeral pyre.

"It's over," Lucy murmured.

Jack took her hand and squeezed it.

"You won, Lucy. You lived."

"Yes," whispered Lucy. "I lived. So many didn't."

"I can't imagine what you went through," Martha said.

Lucy thought that was an ironic remark, coming from a woman who had avoided Harry's elite troops and travelled the world on foot to save everyone with a single word.

"Is your family alright?" she asked, changing the subject.

In the flickering light of the pyre, Lucy saw Martha's mouth twist up in a small smile.

"No. But they're going to be. I don't think any of us can forget what we saw the last year."

"Except according to everyone else, the year never happened," Jack said.

Lucy placed her free hand on her middle, where the emptiness that should have been her growing child was. She would be nearly full term by now.

"It happened," she said, almost to herself.

"We got Mum and Dad and Tish back home while you were packing up your things," Martha said. "It was sort of a shock to see everything just as we left it. The cup of coffee Mum put down when the soldiers came for her was still on the counter." She smiled again, suddenly. "One good thing has come of all this: Mum and Dad are getting back together."

Jack chuckled.

"True love in the midst of all that hate. A miracle, isn't it?"

Lucy looked up into Jack's face, and smiled her own private smile. A miracle, yes.

------

The Doctor stood before the flickering flames for almost an hour, and Martha, Jack, and Lucy stood by the TARDIS and waited for him. When he returned to his time ship, his face was impassive, lacking all emotion.

"We best get going," he said, his voice as dead as his features.

He pressed buttons, and the TARDIS whirred to life. Lucy clung to a railing as the ship started with a jerk.

"Where to?" Jack asked.

The Doctor shrugged, looking tired and old.

"Anywhere, really. I suppose you'll be wanting to go back to your team."

"I'm sure they missed me," Jack said, with a trademark grin.

What about me? Lucy wondered idly. What in the world would they do with her?

The Doctor, as if in answer to her thought, looked straight at her.

"Lucy," he said. "You've been the companion of one Time Lord. Will you be the companion of another?"

Lucy looked at him with wide eyes. Was he offering what she thought he was offering?

"We'd love to have you, if you want to come on adventures with us," Martha said graciously.

Lucy looked around the cavernous control room of the ship. Could she ever look at it without seeing the horrors that she had witnessed on her first ride? Could she ever heal from the scars that Harry had left on her if she was constantly in the presence of one of his own species, even if that one was as good and generous as the Doctor?

Slowly, Lucy shook her head.

"I think I've had enough of adventures," she said, with a sad smile. "I just want to go somewhere where nobody knows me, and try to forget this ever happened. Maybe work in a shop or something."

The Doctor looked at her again, and this time there was a spark of life in his glance.

"How do you feel about Australia?" he asked.

Lucy blinked.

"Australia? It… it's alright, I suppose."

"Would you want to live there?"

"I suppose," Lucy repeated, a bit lost as to where this was going.

The Doctor gave her a small, though genuine smile.

"I think I know someone who can help us."

-------

The shop was small, as the Doctor promised. On a less-frequented street in Adelaide, Australia, he parked the TARDIS and walked casually out, his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

"Won't people notice it's there?" Lucy asked, looking back at the blue phone box.

"Nah," drawled the Doctor. "People never notice what they're not looking for."

"How do you think I was able to hide for so long?" Martha asked, pulling at a key on a string around her neck.

The Doctor stopped in front of a small second hand book shop, smiling.

"Here we are," he said.

Lucy looked up at the sign.

_Adelaide Books_ it said in faded gold letters. Underneath, in smaller letters, it read _A Place for Previously Loved Books_. Lucy smiled to herself. She was going to like this place.

The Doctor strode into the store.

"May?" he called.

A small woman with soft brown hair framing her heart-shaped face came out of the back of the shop. She smiled at them genially.

"Hello, and welcome to Adelaide Books. What can I do for you?"

"It's been a while, May," the Doctor said. "But you look just the same. Although I can't say the same for me."

May cocked her head to one side.

"Do I… know you?" she asked.

"You did, once. You helped me fight off some rather gruesome corporate executives who turned out to be Merdons from Varlax Five. And we went travelling for a bit."

May squinted at him.

"Doctor?" she asked.

The Doctor grinned.

"_Now_ you recognize me!"

"Not a bit of it," May said. She came forward, and hugged the Doctor, laughing.

"Look at you!" she exclaimed, drawing away. "You look so different! So…"

"Handsome? Cheeky? Not ginger?" the Doctor supplied.

May laughed.

"Young," she finished. "And where did all your lovely wavy hair go?"

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up on end.

"You should have seen me before. I had _no_ hair!" he said.

"And your lovely Edwardian morning suit?" May mourned.

The Doctor laughed.

"New regeneration, new set of clothes. Janis Joplin gave me this coat." He tugged at a lapel.

"Couse she did," May answered. "So what brings you here again, Doctor? More aliens?"

"Not exactly," Jack cut in.

May seemed to see the three people standing behind the Doctor for the first time.

"Hello there," she said, smiling. "I'm May Parker, former companion to the Doctor. You must be his current companions."

"Why hello there," Jack said with a charming smile. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness."

"Jaaaack!" protested the Doctor.

"Can't I just say hello?" Jack asked, grinning rakishly.

Lucy felt a rush of jealousy. She hated when Jack flirted with other women.

The Doctor cleared his throat pointedly.

"_This_ is my companion, Martha Jones," he said.

Martha stepped forward.

"Hi," she said, shaking May's hand.

"And you've already met Jack Harkness."

" _Captain_ Jack Harkness," Jack interrupted.

The Doctor ignored him.

"Jack's a former companion of mine and an old friend."

"You have no idea how old," Jack muttered.

"And this is Lucy S…"

"Cole," Lucy cut in quickly. "Lucy Cole."

"Lucy Cole," the Doctor agreed, "A friend. Listen, May, I need a favour of you."

"Anything," May said confidently.

"Lucy needs a place to live and a job. Call it… witness protection. Can you help?"

May smiled at Lucy.

"I can. In fact, I have an opening right here in the shop. How do you feel about books?"

Lucy brightened.

"I love them."

"Good. And of course you can stay with me until you find your own flat."

Lucy felt a rush of gratitude towards the small, cheerful woman.

"Thank you," she stuttered.

May waved her off.

"Any friend of the Doctor's is a friend of mine. How long can you stay?" she asked, turning to the Doctor.

The Doctor gave her a regretful smile.

"Not long. We have to get Jack back to his team."

"They pine for me," Jack said, sighing dramatically.

Lucy felt a lump in her throat. Jack leave? It was unthinkable not to have him in her life. She tried to speak, but the lump prevented her from saying anything.

They exited the shop, with Lucy trailing afterwards. The Doctor picked up Lucy's suitcase, which he had left leaning on the front step, and handed it to May.

"Sorry I can't stay longer, May. There's a bit of a clean-up job to be done after this latest adventure."

"I understand," May said, holding Lucy's suitcase in one capable hand. "You're a busy Time Lord. But you'll come back and visit?"

"Of course," the Doctor said, pulling her into a hug again.

May smiled, and then vanished into the shop with Lucy's suitcase in hand.

Lucy looked at the Doctor. He was so tall, and he looked so young. She wasn't used to it. In fact, she barely felt like she knew him in this guise.

"Give me one of your credit cards," he said, suddenly.

Puzzled, Lucy pulled out a credit card from her pocket, one of several she had retrieved from her suite on the Valiant, and handed it to him. He buzzed it with his newly-restored sonic screwdriver, and then handed it back.

"That should be enough for you to live on for a while," he said.

"How much did you put on it?" Martha asked, curious.

"About a million Australian dollars," the Doctor said, shrugging nonchalantly. "That's about five hundred thousand pounds."

Lucy blinked, staggered by the amount.

"Th… thank you," she choked out.

The Doctor smiled.  
"Need to make sure you're alright. It's my duty, after…"

_After what Harry had done to her_. Lucy finished the sentence for him in her head. The thought of Harry conjured up memories of this same Doctor sitting on the floor, rocking his fallen enemy's body in his arms. She had been responsible for Harry's death, after all.

"I'm sorry," Lucy said softly. "I'm sorry you're the last of your kind again. But you understand. I had to. It couldn't be any other way."

The Doctor knew what she was talking about.

"You did what you had to do," he said, his face gentle. "You were offered a choice, and you picked one. That's all any of us can do."

"Yes, I made my choice," Lucy said, echoing the Doctor's words from so long ago.

"Oh!" the Doctor said suddenly. He fished into one of his pockets, and came out with a small object. "I found this in the TARDIS, and thought you might want it. You know, to remind you."

In his hand was a white chess queen. Lucy grasped it, running her fingers over its smooth surface, her eyes swimming with tears.

"Jack told me," the Doctor said.

Lucy nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to come.

She slipped the small, white object in her pocket. The Doctor wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, and gave her a brief hug.

"You're an incredibly brave woman, Lucy Cole," he said.

Lucy offered her hand, and he shook it. Then, a wide smile broke over his face, making his eyes light up and sparkle.

Martha grinned, and hugged Lucy as soon as the Doctor had let go of her hand.

"Thank you," she said.

"What for?" Lucy asked. "I'm the one who should be thanking you. You saved us all."

"So did you," Martha said. "Tish told me what you did for them, how many risks you took, what you went through. Thank you for keeping my family safe."

Lucy gave Martha a final squeeze, then let go of her. She knew what was coming next, _who_ was coming next. Her heart began to pound. She didn't want to say goodbye! Not yet. Not ever. But she couldn't put it off, the moment was here.

With trepidation, Lucy turned to the last figure, standing a little apart from them. Jack.

"Jack…" Lucy whispered, her eyes locking with his.

In two steps, Jack had cleared the ground between them and gathered Lucy up into his arms.

The Doctor and Martha tactfully withdrew, beating a hasty retreat towards the unassuming blue phone box.

"You were so amazing, Lucy," Jack said. "And now you're free of him. You survived everything he did to you."

The tears that Lucy had been holding at bay for so long now began to flow. She could hide them from everyone else, but she couldn't hide them from Jack. She buried her face in his shirt, holding handfuls of the crisp white material in her fists.

"Stay with me," she whispered. "Stay with me, Jack."

She drew away so she could look into his face.

"We could have that house we dreamed of, with the white picket fence and the little bit of garden and the gingham table cloth, just like you wanted. We could grow flowers and raise our children. Please Jack," she pleaded. "Stay."

Jack's face was anguished.

"I can't," he said.

"Why?" Lucy whispered. "Why can't you?"

Jack looked at her with those bottomless blue eyes.

"I can't, Lucy," he said, his voice breaking. "We would have our house with the white picket fence, and for a while it would be heaven. I want nothing more than to stay with you and hold our children and heal the wounds that the Master has left on you. But our children would grow up, and you would get strands of silver in that golden main of yours, and I would be the same. I don't die, Lucy. I don't grow old, ever. I couldn't bear to watch you fade and die, to see our children's children's children grow old and die. It is too much."

Now there were tears running down Jack's face as well. Lucy wiped them off with the tips of her fingers.

Jack gently brushed her cheek as well, mimicking her action.

"I can't live without you," she whispered.

Jack smiled.

"Yes you can. You can do anything you want now. Besides," he chuckled lightly. "I have a team who needs me. The world still needs protecting. I can't be selfish."

"I love you," Lucy said. She had never said it out loud to him before, and it was oddly freeing.

Jack grinned his familiar, smug grin.

"Who wouldn't love me?" he responded with trademark cockiness.

But Lucy wasn't in the mood to laugh. She looked up at him, and waited. Jack knew what she wanted.

"I can't, Lucy. It would break me. It's almost too much to tolerate now."

"Please," Lucy begged. "I need to hear it. Just once." She clung to the lapels of his coat, pleading, wishing, _willing_ him to grant this one last request.

Jack caught her up in a breathtaking kiss. His arms wound themselves around her waist and brought her closer to him.

Lucy ingrained this moment into her memory. She knew it was all that she had, and she wanted to remember every second of it to be called up at a future time.

But it was over all too soon. Jack broke away, leaning down and whispering in her ear.

"I love you, Lucy."

And then he was gone.

_Author's Note: I know what you're thinking: why couldn't Jack stay with Lucy? Well, for several reasons. First of all, it's not in Jack's nature. He's not the settling-down-with-one-woman-forever type. Second of all, Jack has to go back to his Torchwood team, unencumbered by a love interest. Third of all, I don't think a happy ending would have fit this story. "And they all lived happily every after" is not how this was ever going to end. It would be untrue to the spirit of the story. _

_I've been planning this chapter since the beginning, but it sort of took me into places that I wasn't expecting. It's always strange when a story does that, and you get carried along by the tide of the plot. May Parker was one of those things that I wasn't expecting, and now I want to know more about her. Extra points to the person who guesses the Doctor that May travelled with :-) _


	17. Epilogue

Lucy hummed softly to herself as she sorted books in the back room. It had been a whole year since everything that had happened with Harry, and she was finally feeling like she could be alright.

May popped into the room.

"Almost finished?" she asked.

Lucy looked up.

"Almost. I was going to finish these boxes," she said, wiping her dusty hands on the sides of her jeans and brushing a blond wisp of hair out of her eyes.

"Ok. But don't take too long, I'm waiting to go to lunch with you."

Lucy grinned as May left the room. They had become close friends in the past year; almost sisters now. They did everything together, even though now Lucy had moved out of May's apartment and was finding her own place to live. She turned back to the boxes of books, and threw another raggedy paperback onto the pile.

"Lucy?" May called from the store.

"I said I was coming, May!" Lucy called back, with a good-natured roll of her eyes.

"It's not that. There's someone here to see you."

Lucy scrambled to her feet. They must be the people from the adoption agency, even though they said they weren't coming till tomorrow.

"I'll be right there!"

Lucy hurried into the store, and then froze. There were four people in the small store. The pale man with the dark hair wore a decided scowl on his face, while the pretty woman standing next to him beamed. A man in a leather jacket idly browsed a shelf of books behind them. But Lucy wasn't looking at any of them – her eyes were fixed on a familiar dark skinned face.

"Martha?" she choked out.

Martha grinned.

"Lucy!"

Lucy took a few stumbling steps forward, and hugged her old friend. She had thought about the events of that year so much these past few months, and it seemed so strange that Martha should be standing before her.

"Lucy! I'm so glad to see you!" Martha said.

Lucy laughed.

"I'm so glad to see you too! What are you doing here?"

"Why? Didn't you miss us?" asked a voice that had echoed in Lucy's dreams for the past year. Her heart stopped beating.

"Jack?" she whispered.

Martha drew away, and Jack stepped out from behind a shelf.

Lucy devoured him greedily with her eyes. He looked exactly the same as she remembered him, right down to the long, blue captain's jacket that he wore. He grinned at her, and her mouth went dry, her heart speeding up in a heavy staccato rhythm.

And then he laughed, and snatched her up, crushing her in a giant hug.

"Lucy!" he exclaimed happily.

Lucy laughed. She couldn't help it.

"Jack!" was all she could manage. "Jack! Jack! Jack!"

Jack drew away, and brushed his fingers over her cheek.

"You look better. Happier."

Lucy smiled.

"I _am_ better. I haven't forgotten, but it's getting better."

The pretty woman behind Jack cleared her throat loudly.

Jack made a face.

"That's Gwen's way of reminding me to mind my manners," he said conspiratorially to Lucy. He let her go, but kept an arm around her shoulder.

"Team," he said, addressing the people who were with him, "This is Lucy Cole, one of the bravest women I know. Lucy, you already know Martha. This is Mickey Smith," nodding to the man in the leather jacket, "Gwen Cooper," to the pretty woman, "And Ianto Jones," to the pale man whose scowl seemed permanently fixed on his thin face.

A memory pulled at Lucy's consciousness – Jack had talked about his team during the year that never was.

"Gwen and Ianto," she said. "I remember you talking about them. But where are Owen and Tosh?"

Ianto's face hardened.

"They died," he said shortly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Lucy, glancing up at Jack.

"Yeah," said Jack. "Me too." Then, he smiled at her. "But enough of that. We were in the neighbourhood, thought we would stop by and say hello."

"So how did you two meet each other?" Gwen asked conversationally.

Jack and Lucy exchanged looks.

"Would you believe I was chained up at the time?" Jack asked.

"Kinky," Mickey murmured.

Ianto scowled further.

"It would have been, if I wasn't being killed every other day. I guess after a while he got tired of it, cuz he stopped."

Lucy, remembering her fateful bargain with Harry, said nothing.

"So what's the real story?" Gwen insisted.

Lucy made a face.

"It's sort of hard to explain, actually, without messing up the Time/Space continuum."

Gwen nodded sagely.

"One of those," she said.

Martha's watch beeped. She sighed.

"Sorry we can't stay longer," she said. "We really only dropped by to see how you were doing."

"I think I'm doing alright," Lucy said, glancing around the shop. "I'm happy here, and May and I are on our way to a beautiful friendship. I think I might even be able to think about those times without it hurting."

Martha sighed.

"I know what you mean."

"Jack, I'm sorry, but we should go," said Ianto, with a look of triumph on his face that Lucy didn't understand.

Jack was looking at Lucy again, with those endless blue eyes of his that seemed to look right into the depths of Lucy's soul.

"Can you give me a minute?" he asked.

Martha grinned, and herded the others out of the store. Ianto was the last to leave, throwing a baleful look in Lucy's direction over his shoulder.

Jack smiled.

"They mean well, but I wanted to talk to you alone."

Lucy nodded, her heart pounding again.

Jack brushed a few strands of her hair out of her eyes.

"I've thought about you this year," he said.

"I've thought about you too," Lucy admitted. "Especially when the Daleks came."

Jack rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yes, well…" he trailed off. "The Doctor needed some help. And who am I to refuse to help an old friend?"

"You saved the world again," Lucy said.

Jack grinned.

"I'm getting really good at it. You could say it's my specialty."

Lucy laughed.

"Yes, it is. Yours and the Doctor's. Is he with you?"

Jack shook his head.

"Nah, he's off travelling again. Martha figured that she would see what working with Torchwood was like."

"She left the Doctor?" Lucy asked.

Jack nodded.

"Maybe she just missed me," he gave her a roguish grin.

The gesture was so familiar that it made Lucy's heart ache. She pulled Jack close, burying herself in his shirt, drinking him in, memorizing every part of him.

"Are you learning me by heart?" Jack asked, with a smile.

Lucy shook her head.

"I've spent so long talking to you that I feel like I already know you by heart. You are inside my heart," she whispered.

Jack kissed her forehead, and held her close once again.

"You saved my life, you know," Lucy said, her voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. "I think I would have died if not for you."

Jack shook his head.

"I only told you what you already knew."

"But I needed someone to say it out loud."

Jack tightened his arms around her, leaning his dark head on the top of her golden one. They might have stayed that way forever, in their own world, taking comfort in one another and forgetting everything else, but Jack's watch beeped.

He sighed forlornly, and let his arms slide out from around Lucy. She instantly regretted the loss of contact.

"And you really can't stay?" she asked.

Jack shook his head.

"I'm sorry. My team's waiting for me. I really only wanted to make sure you're alright."

Lucy took stock of herself, of the life she was building for her life.

"I'm alright," she assured him.

Jack grinned.

"I thought you would be. You should get married, you know. Have kids. Start a family."

Lucy smiled rather sadly.

"There was one man. After him, no one else compares."

Jack stroked her cheek, but didn't reply.

"I'm adopting two little girls," Lucy blurted out suddenly.

"You are?" Jack sounded surprised and pleased.

Lucy nodded.

"After that Dalek attack there were so many orphans. I'm taking two. Jack, I've got it."

Jack looked confused.

"Got what?"

"Our house. I found our perfect house. It's a little cottage with a white fence around a garden, and flowers everywhere, and I even bought a red chair to go in the living room." She looked up into his eyes, and made a final plea. "Come live with me? We can have our family after all."

Jack's eyes were sad.

"Oh, Lucy. My reasons for leaving haven't changed."

"I know that," Lucy said with a sigh. "But it was worth a try."

Jack leaned down, and brushed his lips gently against hers in a feather-soft kiss.

"You will always have a special place in my heart, Lucy Cole," he said. "You're an amazing woman, and don't you forget it."

Lucy didn't want the moment to end, but she knew that it must. And she knew that she had to stay goodbye to him while she still had willpower left. If he stayed any longer, she wouldn't be able to pick up the pieces when he did leave.

"Goodbye, Jack," she whispered.

"Goodbye, Lucy," said Jack. He gave her one final kiss, and then he turned and walked out of the shop. In the open doorway, he paused.

"Lucy?"

Lucy looked up.

"Yes?"

"Just… be fantastic," he said. And then, he walked out of the door, and was gone.

Lucy smiled to herself. Be fantastic? She rather thought she would.

_Author's Note: The End! _

_I've had those closing lines in my head since the first day I wrote this story. This ending is bittersweet, but I think it fits Lucy's story perfectly. She's going to be happy, with her daughters and her house, and she doesn't need a man to cling to. She's learning to be independent after the abuse she's suffered. And something tells me that that's not the last time she'll see Jack. _

_Thank you to everyone who took a chance on this story. I know it was unusual, and at times downright dark and gloomy. But your reviews have been my light, and I've thoroughly enjoyed them. Thank you to I am the Lev for giving me the idea in the first place and letting me run wild with it, and to Maestrodamus for his unfailing support and encouragement. And to all of you who reviewed every chapter. Bless. _

_Gilari _


End file.
